#may wyda

[k-fla-pop]

May - Flamenguista

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite Day 2: Bark

Keimwyda approached the fallen maple tree with a sense of reverence and excitement. This would hardly be the first time she chopped firewood—indeed, she was nearing her fourteenth nameday, and of a size, strength, and responsibility that Miss Estelle had entrusted her with the task for more than a year now.

She knew the rules of this forest well enough to always show respect and gratitude when receiving of its bounty. The elementals were exceedingly particular about which trees may be cut down, but when one was blown over by the wind like this, their permission was all but assured. Still, she laid a hand on the trunk and said a quick blessing, as she had been taught.

“With peace in our hearts, in harmony with the land, we thank thee for thy bounty,” she recited to the air. “For this, the gift of warmth and shelter…” she smiled as she added her own ending, “...and music.”

=======

Miss Estelle had a generous heart, but she did not have very much to give. Her homestead was the site of a life lived simply—gardens and baking, foraging and sewing, living off the land for what one could, and sharing and trading amongst neighbors for what one could not. She never had much gil to her name, but then again, she rarely needed it. Indeed, most locals in the nearby village were just as happy to receive a loaf of bread in lieu of the coin that could buy it. For small transactions, it hardly seemed worth it to bother with currency at all.

There were, of course, exceptions that only gil could buy—imports, large farming implements, and the occasional luxury item. 

And one such luxury had recently caught Keimwyda’s imagination.

Mr. Inman seemed as if he must be the oldest man in town, at least by Keimwyda’s reckoning. He had retired to the village to get as far away from every big city as he could, in pursuit of peace and quiet, as he would always say with a sad smile. Though he never really opened up about what exactly he wished to leave behind, he was a kindly person, and a fixture in the main square. He had been a professional musician before retirement, and he often would spend his days perched in front of the inn where he now resided, playing a wandering tune on something—woodwinds and strings, for the most part—and he was very, very good. Whenever Keimwyda and Estelle’s errands took them into town, the girl loved lingering and listening to him play.

And then, one day, he brought out his harp.

It was a gorgeous instrument, finely made. The polished wood was the color of honey and gleamed in the sunlight, its many strings pulled taut, shimmering as they vibrated in tune. Silver tuning pins sparkled like jewels in Keimwyda’s young eyes, and the sound—oh, it felt as if it might cause her to float away on a cloud.

Her rapture must have shown plain on her face, because before she knew it, Mr. Inman was laughing and inviting her over to have a closer look. He let her touch it, and invited her to even pluck a few strings.

She could hardly believe herself when she found the courage to ask if he might teach her to play. She was doubly surprised when he quickly and joyously agreed. Whenever she and her guardian were in town, he said, she should pay him a visit, and he would teach her what he could.

Their errands took them into town every week or so, and whenever Miss Estelle could spare her, Keimwyda met Mr. Inman on the porch of the inn, as eager a pupil as anyone could hope for. He taught her how to hold the harp and how to play its scales. He taught her notes in sequence for some simple folk tunes. She learned them by heart. All small malmstones, to be sure, but each one felt to her like a monumental accomplishment. 

Some few moons into their lessons, he asked, “‘Wyda, have you given thought to practicing at home? Pleased as I am with your progress, there is only so much we can do on one day every couple of weeks.”

Keimwyda shifted awkwardly. “I have been memorizing all the notes for the Harvest Dance, if that’s what you mean? I could sing them for you if you like.”

The old man smiled. “I am sure you could. But I mean… have you given thought to getting an instrument of your own?”

She hadn’t. It had not even occurred to her as a possibility. After all, Miss Estelle did not have much to give. And Keimwyda did not—would not—ask much from her. The very fact that the woman had taken her in at all struck her as unfathomably generous. While Estelle had assured her from the start she was welcome, Keimwyda could not help but feel like an imposition. She had food, clothes, and shelter, and a kind upbringing—surely more than she deserved. What right did she have to even ask for something like this?

“I could send a request to the artisans in Gridania, if you like?” Mr. Inman offered, seeing her blank expression.

“Are… are they very expensive?” 

“Heh,” he chuckled, in a tone that made it clear he wished he could give a different answer. “For ones like mine? Very much so, I fear. But! We may yet find you a student model that is a bit more attainable. May I look into it for you?”

Keimwyda nodded. “Thank you so much. I would not even know where to buy one.”

“Leave that to me,” he said proudly. “Matron willing, I shall have news for you when next you return.”

The following week, he made good on his word. No sooner had Estelle set foot into the village than he was flagging her down, excitedly waving a paper with quotes from Gridania’s luthiers. Keimwyda hung back, embarrassed, as he waxed on about the promise she showed, and the leaps and bounds by which she would improve if she had a harp of her own.

Estelle was genuinely interested. “I wish you would have asked me!” she beamed at her young charge. “I think it is a wonderful idea.”

Keimwyda shrugged and looked at the ground. “I just didn’t… um. Thank you,” she said quietly.

And then Mr. Inman showed her the paper. 

Estelle’s smile froze, and then sank, as she looked at the prices. 

“Now, you can spend about as much as you wish to on an instrument, of course,” Mr. Inman began, oblivious. “But these are the small ones designed for students—fewer strings and made of more common woods—but I assure you, it will be enough to get her started!”

“...and these prices are for those small ones?” Estelle clarified, trying not to sound as rattled by the numbers as she was.

“...Ah. Er. Yes. Yes they, are,” he replied, recognizing her discomfort. “I take it that is a problem?”

“No!” Estelle interjected, finding a smile again, “Well. We may not be able to take advantage of this kind offer just yet, but that just means we have a goal. We shall simply have to come up with a plan. Isn’t that right, Keimwyda?”

Keimwyda nodded, not looking up, only barely managing not to cry. She should have known it would be too much. She should have just been content to leave well enough alone.

=========

That day, Keimwyda followed her guardian around on their errands with scarcely a word—from disappointment, yes, but even more so, a crushing sense of guilt. Estelle noted her silence with concern, but would not do her the discourtesy of pressing her publicly about it. On the cart ride home, however, when they were alone, she tried to lightly broach the subject.

“So I have been thinking,” she began. “The berries have come in nicely this year. If we manage to preserve a few more jars than usual, we can sell them the next time a merchant…”

“I’m so sorry!” Keimwyda interrupted, bursting into tears.

Estelle looked at her, agape. “Why, whatever for?”

“I had no idea what they cost. I don’t need one. Please don’t bother.”

Estelle pulled the reins, bringing the bird to a stop, so she could put her hands aside Keimwyda’s face. “Sweetheart. There’s no need for tears. Shhh.” 

Keimwyda struggled to steady her breathing. Here she was, thirteen whole years old, already a little bigger than Miss Estelle, and crying like a baby. “I’m sorry.”

“There is no need for that, either. Now. What is all this about?”

Keimwyda’s words tumbled out in disjointed half-sentences—how she was grateful for everything, how she didn’t want to ask for something so big, how she completely understood if it was just too expensive. It was fine. She didn’t need it.

Estelle found herself at a bit of a loss. So many years ago, when her son was Keimwyda’s age, he would have been prone to sulking over not getting what he wanted. She had navigated that hurdle before. She was not so sure how to approach this one.

“It… is all right to want something,” she said carefully. “Even if it is expensive. I am only sorry it is out of reach for the moment.”

“I don’t want you to go to the trouble…”

She stopped her. “My dear. Some things are worth going to the trouble for. We just need a plan. It will take some time, but we can start saving, and we will figure something out. All right?”

Keimwyda sniffled. She was grateful. She was. But it just felt so… so… unfair. “But I’m not even your daughter,” she whispered.

Estelle exhaled a heartbroken sigh. She gently pulled Keimwyda’s head down onto her shoulder and cradled her there as best she could. “Oh, honey. It is as I told you: We are in this together now. And this? This is part of what that means.”

========

The following week, on their return into town, Mr. Inman was once again waiting for them, waving another handful of paper. Estelle had to head straight off for an appointment, but Keimwyda approached him tentatively.

“Um. We haven’t really had time to save up yet,” she said apologetically.

“My girl,” the man said through a wide smile, “I believe I can do you one better.”

Keimwyda felt her stomach drop. “You didn’t buy it, did you?”

He shook his head. “It has been a while since I had the gil to throw around as I wished. But, tell me: does my old mind play tricks on me, or have you mentioned that you are learning a bit of woodworking?”

She blinked in momentary confusion. “Well… yes. Miss Estelle has shown me a few things.”

“Then look at this.” He unfolded the paper from his hand and spread it across the porch railing.

Keimwyda did not know very much about reading carpentry plans yet, but she knew a harp when she saw one. She drew a sharp breath.

“Do you think you could manage something like this?”

She looked at the design. It looked much simpler indeed than Mr. Inman’s harp, more roughly hewn, and not nearly as pretty. But if it played…

“I… I don’t know,” she said, attempting to decipher the instructions. “I have not made anything like it before. …But maybe I can try?”

“That’s the spirit!” he said, almost giddy with excitement. “I may not be able to get you a whole instrument, but pray, allow me to make you a deal. If you can provide me with a frame, then I can get you the strings.”

Tears welled in Keimwyda’s eyes once more—but happy ones, this time. “Really?” she asked, clasping her hands under her chin. 

“Really.”

It was two short days later when the maple tree fell, not even a quarter malm from the house.

They would make full use of it, of course. There were logs to be chopped to prepare for the winter; bark to carefully strip and dry to later weave into baskets. But as Keimwyda studied the branches, she could practically see the pieces she needed to hew hidden within them. Miss Estelle had given her blessing; of course she could have them. Those branches were hers.

She closed her eyes and took another breath, her heart feeling fit to burst.

“Thank you,” she whispered out loud again, to everyone and to no one, before readying her saw and setting to work.

[endangered-liaison]

Light the Way

((tw for some light body horror, general Endwalker themes, and spoiler warning for Endwalker’s story))

The once-great Pharos Sirius cut a sharp figure against the skyline of La Noscea. Far away on an isle all of its own, overtaken by corrupted aether crystals from the calamity; the building seems an unlikely place for any visitor other than an adventuring party sent to clear out corrupted sprites or ... other, stranger creatures.

But it's within this tower than Wyda Eyhafrynwyn has found herself living of late. An encampment on the upper floors, kept safe from the corrupted crystals and far from civilisation. Once a week, a supply ship sails in with food, water, whatever other supplies are needed, and a new shift of yellowjackets. The guards change every week. But the researchers remain.

Every day, she walks down the ruined staircases, gas mask strapped in place and magicked barriers projected to keep her safe from the corrupted aether. Every day, she comes to the basement, far beneath the main structure and torn open by a kobold incursion.

But the central furnace is still intact. A grand structure built to house Voidsent Bombs, the power source of the great lantern. Few think about the fact that the pharos that light the way for ships are powered by void rituals, but it remains an immutable fact even in this age of magitek advancement. Aether and tek need power sources, but a voidsent bomb simply needs the ambient aether of the air to survive. Slave labour, of a strange sort.

It may seem a strange place for her to reside. But in truth, it's perfect. It is far from civilisation, to keep others safe. And the great furnace chamber was built to keep enormous Bombs restrained. If anywhere in La Noscea is strong enough to house the thing she now studies, it's here.

She steps off the final wooden scaffold on to the basement level, and pulls off her mask. The air down here is damp and sulphuric, but it is safe to breathe. It won't taint your lungs and turn you to a crystalline zombie. The danger down here does not come from the air. Already, she feels it creeping into her bones. The deep, tainting miasma.

The guards down here don't seem to be guarding. They are singing. A bard from Gridania strums a harp, and the band of yellowjackets sing an upbeat shanty. It's necessary.

"G'morning, lass!" one calls, false cheer in his voice and eyes alight. They're only going to be here for another two days, but the anxiety is creeping in at the edges of his gaze.

Wyda smiles right back, bright and cheery, and pats the man on the shoulder. "Morning, Knodbrem. Is Totojonu already in there? He wasn't at breakfast."

The soldiers glance back and forth between one another, then nod. "Aye. He came down when our shift began. He said he couldn't sleep."

The worry is clear.

"I'll talk to him," Wyda reassures. "I've ways of persuading people to take a break." She tries her best to sound spooky, and it garners a laugh or two before she steps past the group. Pushes open the great doors with Knodbrem's help, and listens to them seal behind her.

The furnace has been retrofitted. Changed and modified to fit the thing that now resides with it. Totojonu Kokojonu of the Alchemist's Guild scurries this way and that before it, checking his notes and rummaging through glass vials. He's been here for five weeks - half the time Wyda herself has been.

And within the great furnace, chained and bound by steel and by magick, is a blasphemy. The chains were built to hold back giants, and the magicks are the same warding spells and geometries that hold Bombs in place. It seems to be working well enough for the time being. The blasphemy tugs at its restraints, ever and always, muttering things in a broken voice that shouldn't be possible.

It doesn't have a voicebox, after all.

"Good morning, Toto," Wyda calls out, but the man barely acknowledges her. She's used to it, by now. She'll tell him to take a break soon, but right now he won't listen to her. Instead, she pulls a visor from her satchel. It's Sharlayan-made, modified by Bellworks engineers. An aetherometer of a sort. The advantage of working with the Sharlayans, rather than having them ignore the plights of the world, is that she gets to use things like this. Like this, and like the soul crystal dangling on a string around her neck and the nouliths strapped to her back.

She settles the visor in place, then twists a dial on the side. It lowers over her left (and only) eye, and the lenses alight. Her vision splits into three distinct images for a moment, dizzying and disorienting, before the three images snap together in a complete picture. It leaves her nauseous, stuck with the feeling of stepping off a moving airship.

As ever, the blasphemy lacks any aetheric signature. A deep, black absence, like she's staring into a hole in the universe. Others had observed that in the first days of this calamity, and given up on aetheric observation. But Wyda is certain there is more to be found. There's something there. The naked eye can see it, but it is not aether. What, then?

"Any progress today?" Wyda asks over her shoulder, stepping closer towards the warded monstrosity. She raises her voice, calling over the constant whispers.

"Growth Formula Zeta seems to cause tissue samples to decay, but has no noticeable effect on the creature itself." Totojonu's response is short and direct, the man not looking up from his work as he peers into a microscope. "The same as every other compound we've tried."

Wyda hums, crossing her arms as she studies the void. "That's not true. It didn't like fluoroantimonic acid."

"One, it doesn't like anything, and two, nothing likes fluoroantimonic acid."

Wyda snorts a laugh. "Aye. Aye, true enough."

She steps closer, leaning in close towards the blasphemy. Two fulms away. One. She feels a prickling across her skin and her mind like static. Like running your hand across a magitek screen. Somewhere, distantly, she hears a voice. The more you cling to life, the more you shall suffer. Embrace me, and I shall grant you a gift painless and beautiful.

A shift in her aether, and one of her nouliths floats freely. It raises from her back, twisting and aligning with her will.

The thavnairians say that they believe the blasphemies are made of something called Akasa. But they have no ways of detecting such a thing, let alone discovering some way of...combating it. Curing it? Wyda doesn't know, any more. A vaccine, a cure, a weapon. She doesn't know what they're searching for here.

She twists the dial once more, her vision flickering blue-white then to a deep orange. Then once more, to the only frequency she's found that detects anything so far. A strange, monochrome view of the world.

It doesn't see everything. The bulk of the blasphemy is still shrouded in darkness, but she sees...wisps. Wisps of that same darkness, exuded by the creature. Coming from the heavens above. Lines through reality like strings she could reach out and pluck, and everywhere they strike is left in a darkness of its own like tiny pinpricks. Like rain striking dry stone.

Akasa. An energy of emotion - of despair, in this case.

She pours a little aether into her noulith. "Okay, Sin. Gently does it." A twitch of her fingers, and the glowing-bright noulith closes in until it touches the blasphemy. She watches through her visor as the field of akasa distorts and twists. The darkness of the blasphemy doesn't change, but the lines exuded by it are...blocked, or at least diverted. Aether can serve as some kind of barrier. The Scions had reported as much - that the flow of celestial aether currents determine where shall next be struck by despair. Where the flow is strong or eddies exist in the celestial currents, people are (relatively) safe. But where the flow weakens, where it stagnates, the slightest note of despair can drive people to become a sign of the end.

She pushes more aether into the noulith; pushes emotion into it, and the voice in her mind rises to a fever pitch.

sleephappily drowninthedeep shatter fade away followmyvoice

here

lies

your

answer

Wyda jerks away, noulith twisting backwards and nearly knocking an alembic to the ground.

She breathes heavy, grabbing her visor to wrench it upwards and focusing on the taste of the sulphur-filled air. The damp, the salt from the sea.

That's always the worst part of her mornings.

She turns away, facing Totojonu, and finds him ... sitting there. He stares into space, his work ceased.

"Toto?" she prompts, stepping closer to the man. No black smoke exudes from him; no ashes.

"Aren't you worried about turning?" he asks. His voice sounds malms away, distant and barely there. "About becoming one of those things?"

His eyes meet hers, and she can see the despair there.

"They have no souls left. They're destroyed, utterly. I used to know this woman. Sosona. She was my friend. She worked at the thaumaturge's guild."

Wyda swallows. She knows this story, by now. Her first day here, she had asked how they had captured this blasphemy. Had asked who they had been. She regrets asking.

"Three were studying the Blasphemy they had captured in their catacombs, when they just ... gave up. They turned, and the blasphemy got loose, and the four killed another ten before they were put down. Sosona's husband turned. And before the despair overtook her, she asked ... to be studied. She'd been working on a cure. And this way, even with no hope left herself, she could give hope to others. She allowed her soul to be lost, for eternity. She will never be reborn."

Totojonu's grip on the desk is tight.

"How can you sit here and look at our fate without screaming?"

There is silence for long seconds, save the murmuring of the blasphemy behind her. And when they grows to be too much, Wyda steps forwards. She kneels down, and takes Totojonu Kokojonu's hands. "'Tis not my fate, my friend. It shall not be yours, either, if you but believe it." Her eye is bright, and his tiny lalafell hands both fit between hers with no effort at all. "I shall not die, for as long as there exists something in this world that gives me purpose. Simply pick a reason to live, and follow it to whatever end."

She stays there, kneeling before him, until his breathing grows steadier. Until his eyes refocus. Until the pall of despair hanging over the room grows lighter.

"Do you feel better?" she asks, gently.

"No." A sardonic smile crosses the man's face. "But I don't feel worse. Thank you."

Wyda snorts. "You know, I'll accept that. I've had worse reviews of my bedside manner." She pats the man's hands as she climbs back to her feet, wincing a little. The ground here is hard and uneven, and a pebble had been digging into her knee that whole time.

She turns back to face the blasphemy once more, lowering her visor over her eye to see the lines of akasa that soak through the world.

"Get some rest. I'll ask the guilds to send out someone to relieve you for a while. You deserve a chance to get away from here." She says it gently. After five weeks, she can see the cracks showing in him. She dares not look at him with the visor in place. He deserves to rest.

"Alright." He sighs, and hops down from the chair he'd been sitting at. She hears his feet hit the ground, and senses his presence moving through the room. She senses him stop. "... What keeps you going?"

"Hm?" Wyda pulses aether, spinning all four nouliths from their places and aligning them around her like extra limbs. She watches the crystals fade slightly as they pass through the lines of akasa.

"You said that something gives you purpose. That you picked a reason to live that you'll follow." His voice is tentative, but she can feel the edges of hope in it.

"Me?" A laugh, light and melodious. "That's simple enough."

She focuses her aether, and four aetheric beams lance outwards from her nouliths. They strike a part of the blasphemy's torso, cutting it open and revealing further darkness within. They twist and rotate, a chirurgeon's tools in her hands, until a slab of not-meat falls to the floor with a dull sound. Not quite a splat.

"There's always more to learn."

She hears Totojonu leave, even as the blasphemy's mutterings rise to screams.

"no cure

no cure

NO CURE"

If any answer lies here, then she'll find it.

It's okay, she tells herself. 

They don't have souls.

[lettersnorth]

I'll always have your back, Lin

Aislinn paused long enough at the Studium's front desk to leave her contact information as she said she would and then made her way into the cool sunshine with Locke beside her. Tilting her head up towards the sun, she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep lungful of air, letting the crisp, pine-scented air fill her chest and chase away the caged, boxed-in feeling the conversation with Albin Travers had left her with.

“If it went well it’s only because you were there.” she said on an exhale, meeting his eye with the barest trace of a smile as they slowly wandered along one of the many paths that branched along the Studium grounds. “I’m not nearly as good at this as you and I was ready to forget the whole thing halfway through, but you knew that. Thank you. For keeping me steady in there.”  

She didn't have to say a word. Not when the discomfort she felt could be seen as clear as day. When the two finally arrived outside, Locke found himself mimicking her and doing the same as he took in a deep breath of fresh air. And as he gently exhaled, he turned his gaze back over to her. "Please, you handled that better than most. And I said it before, didn't I? I'll always have your back, Lin."

She glanced down at their feet as they walked, feeling a smile come over her, broad enough to part her lips as a warm glow hummed contentedly in her chest. “You did say that.”

What she had once taken as charming but surely hollow words from a silver-tongued wordsmith she was finding, instead, had the ring of truth. Because since their meeting Locke had proven time and again he meant them. He was someone she could count on. It was an odd feeling she didn’t wholly trust, still halfway convinced that if she’d let herself believe it, she’d lean back on that support one day and find it gone. A rug pulled out from under her. Her life had conditioned her to expect the inevitable outcome.

People came and went. They didn't stay.

Not always by choice, she allowed, prodding at the scarred over memory of Wyda. But even childhood friends, who were supposed to know better, had taken what they needed from her and left but Locke, inexplicably, was still here. Try as she might, and her shrewd, careful mind had tried, she couldn’t find an ulterior reason for it. But nor could she make sense of it. Why did such a man, devastating in every sense of the word, give her such loyalty? Almost everything in her world could be analyzed. Distilled down to its bare components and understood. But not this.

She shook her head, clearing away the circular thoughts before her mind lost itself chasing its own tail.

Locke opted to walk by her side now that they were out of the Studium, and every so often he found himself stealing glances toward her. She was smiling again. It was hard to believe that there once was a time where she barely cracked one at all in his presence. And now, he couldn't get enough of the sight. Seeing her lips curl into that smile instinctively brought one over his own face as he looked up to the skies above.

"The day's still young. What's next on our agenda?"

“I’d say it just opened up.” she answered as she lifted her head and peered along the path ahead of them. “What about this famed library I’ve heard so much about? I’d like to see if I could find some of the papers Professor Travers has undoubtedly published.”

"I've a feeling I may have sealed my own fate," he teased.

[high-and-away]

Ego sum qui ego velit esse

Just because Irene's sword doesn't fit you doesn't mean we can't find you one that does. Nothing fit right in her hand. Not the standard-pattern gunblades, not the slender Doman officers' swords, and certainly not the heavy Bozjan cleavers. Irene Belisar's weapon, no matter how freely it may have been given, was customized to better serve someone else. Eventually, Victoria had accepted that if she wanted to wield a more suitable blade, she'd have to solve that problem by herself. In the end, she hadn’t gone it alone; all that stopped her from requesting assistance was a lingering sense of self-consciousness that she’d had enough sense to recognize as groundless and had forced herself to shove aside. There had been so many hands beside her own - Lee's, Barengar's, Max’s, Wyda’s, half the craftsmen in Arcanotechnical Research, a mournful man with an aging gelding and horseshoes nailed over his door. What was one more pair, in the end? Nolanel's had been sure enough, once he'd gotten over his initial wariness and grudgingly agreed to help. His were the ones holding the hammer. Hers had gone from bellows to tongs as he directed. Sitting and watching was out of the question; if this was to be well and truly hers, then she must have a hand in its creation. And she'd made sure she had, every step of the way, from glowing steel to grafted gun to true aim and a lethal edge. It's all wrong, really, but it's wrong on purpose and that serves her purposes. Sabres lend themselves perfectly to being swung from the saddle, and having a pommel heavy enough to smash a man’s face in gives her another offensive option, however slight. Shooting with a slightly offset barrel is less than ideal, but she'll learn, and mounting the revolver barrel to one side had been a necessary concession to the shape of the blade. It's all wrong, really, but it fits right in her hand. There's a pile of wrong choices behind her. It doesn't matter. None of them were accidental. She'd weighed them, understood them, and deliberately followed them all through in her madman's quest to become something more­ - someone more - and Victoria regrets nothing, no matter what the world may think of her. No one has the right to tell her she's worthless. No one has the right to tell her she’s an accident. Not anymore. She is who she chooses to be. The words she's so carefully etched deep in the blade give the same answer:

                                                 No Mistake

[windupnamazu]

bolt to the blue

ffxivwrite2021 #15: thunderous

⮞ lunya, fistoflightning's zaya, blackestnight's hanami, verbroil's rjoli, and winduphaurchefant's reese. a mention of windup-dragoon's kirishimi! 921 words. ⮞ post-shb, but pre 5.3, with a spoiler for the ffxv collab event. ⮞ lunya may be less inclined to show it like zaya does, but she does cause problems on purpose. or: water/lightning aspected siblings pioneer the dumbest form of travel eorzea's ever seen.

thunderous: relating to or giving warning of thunder.

"I can't let you do this," Reese insisted, wringing her hands in her robes as she paced before them. "It's way too unsafe—what if you get set on fire, or—or—what if you fall?! You will fall! Oh, gods, what am I going to say to the Scions..."

Lunya rolled her eyes. "Calm down, Mom. I can give us a safe landing." She snapped her fingers. "Like this."

A warbled scream erupted from Reese as she slowly began to float off the ground, glittering with faint traces of stardust. "Please put me down please put me down please put me—"

Rjoli reached out and grabbed her sleeve, smiling patiently as Reese wrapped herself around him like a koala and clung to him even after Lunya returned her gravity to normal.

Dark clouds were beginning to roll in over the Floating City of Nym as the party stood on the cliff's edge, the winds kicking up fiercely as the rain approached. Lunya relished the feeling of an authentic La Noscean storm—it was too bad Wyda couldn't be home to enjoy it too. Kind of embarrassing, actually, that she was making her friends do something like this instead of heading back over to help out with the research. But Zaya was stretching at her side, a spark in their eyes that she hadn't seen in some time between everything that'd happened on the First. Their enthusiasm was palpable, rolling off them in static waves that raised every hair on Rjoli's body until he was a giant pink puffball. Every bit of movement any of them made created small crackling sounds.

"This is not how Noctis did his warping," Hanami said, crossing her arms as she eyed the storm warily. It was hard to tell if she was just as worried for them as Reese was or if she figured they'd learn their lesson the hard way.

"Well, I don't see Hien and Kirishimi warping around with 'the power of kings,'" snipped Lunya, unless Kiri knew something she didn't. Hanami and Zaya both made complicated expressions at the mention of the Doman lordling. "So we gotta do the next best thing."

Privately, Lunya knew full well that going out of her way to get hit by lightning wasn't at all the next best thing and nowhere close to what their otherworldly friend employed in battle. The technique she was going to use came from another of the Warriors of Light and Seven happened to use it without this dangerous aspect, which frankly just wasn't as fun. She sure as hells wasn't about to tell Reese that, though.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Rjoli signed, a bit stifled by Reese continuing to cling to him like an oversized stuffed bear. "Isn't Zaya's aether…"

"I know Zaya's whole aether situation is like trying to put a sweater on a greased goobbue, that's why they have me," Lunya emphasized with a wiggle of her incandescent, aether-coated fingers.

"That's why I have Lunya," Zaya agreed, giving them all a not very reassuring thumbs up, way more excited about this than any of the others felt they should be. Reese and Rjoli looked at them doubtfully.

The rain rushed in. When the first crack of thunder slammed above them, Lunya clapped her hands with glee, bouncing up and down on the spot. Zaya knelt on the dirt, her back turned to her. "It's time!"

"Like a frog," Hanami muttered, which Lunya luckily didn't hear.

Lunya climbed on Zaya's back. A iridescent sheen rippled across Zaya's scales and horns and down their skin as she pressed a hand to the back of their head, condensing her aether into a thick protective layer over them both. If her hair wasn't already a mess from Zaya's latent static earlier then it certainly was now as tension completely pooled around them and the rain began to soak them through. Every single hair on her body was standing on end and there was a low buzz that hummed in the air.

"At your ready, Cap'n Zaya!" she cheered. The others stepped far, far back, crammed together beneath Rjoli's Serpent of Ronka umbrella.

"Hold on," Zaya said raspily, teeth bared in a huge grin. Threads of aether swirled in Lunya's hands as she gripped Zaya's shoulders, electricity beginning to arc across their skin. The smell of ozone was overwhelmingly sweet in her nostrils, weighing metallic on her tongue.

Lightning struck them.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAA," they screamed in unison, like idiots, because seriously why did she ever think this was a good idea—but Lunya closed her eyes and searched, following the lines of aether that swirled in the air. She grasped at the lightning aether, grabbed her own in the other fist, and slammed them together. The lightning strike launched them upward and with her aetherial manipulation she pulled another bolt close and Zaya propelled them forward, high, high above the floating city. Lunya whooped in exhilaration as they leaped to the next lightning strike and the next and the next and the next, and the storm swelled fiercer and fiercer above them until they were out of sight, the only sign of where they were being the intensified sound of the thunderclaps and the shaking of the earth with each following strike.

"Um, now that I think about it," Reese said, breaking the silence that followed the first lightning strike for the three left on the ground. "Why did we let them take any ideas from Noctis when we watched him hit his fiancée with a car?"

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Riylli waits for Cravs.

Cravendy Hound - It had been a couple of bells since Cravs had split off from the group. By the time she found her way back to the village, the sky was pitch black and cold. A couple of night owls were still milling about on the sands, but most of the partygoers had returned home by now.

Riylli Aliapoh sat on her own in the sand, hunched over a pile of leftover lantern materials and doing her best to twist the wires into the proper shapes with no other light to go by than that of the moon above. There were already about a dozen lanterns behind her, some with strange designs and a couple that looked like they had been thrown behind her in frustration. Her ears twitched as she heard footsteps approaching, looking up to see Cravs walking along in the darkness of the night. Riylli quickly hopped to her feet, hesitating for just a moment before speaking. "Uh, Hey! You're back! I was beginning to wonder if you had fallen asleep out there or somethin'"

Cravendy Hound: “Wh-what? Yer still ‘ere?” Cravs steps back in shock, clearly not expecting anyone, least of all a company member, to be hanging around at this hour. As such, she hadn’t bothered to keep up appearances. Her hair looks like it’s been tossed back and forth a hundred times, either by wind or by frustrated hands. All her armor is half-loosened, straps slack or buttons unclasped.

Cravendy Hound is thankful that it’s night and, hopefully, Riylli doesn’t notice too much. “Of course I’m back...I don’t live on the beach. What’re ye up to?” She peers over at the experimental lanterns.

Riylli Aliapoh 's eyes flicked downwards briefly to examine the rough state of the Roegadyn's appearance, her Keeper eyes quite well suited for the dark, but quickly return upwards so as not to be rude. "Oh, I was just working on some lanterns, and... Uh..." Riylli hesitated again, the line she had been practicing for the past bell or so sounding a lot stupider now that she was saying it out loud. She let out a soft sigh before continuing, "...Just... Thought it would be good to wait for you, I guess. See how you're holding up after... that..." She spoke awkwardly, extremely out of her element with this

Cravendy Hound stiffens, mind racing to identify what ‘that’ could refer to. The celebration as a whole? Or, perhaps more likely, her reaction to seeing the lanterns float out to sea bells earlier? Cravs coughs awkwardly, looking away for a second as she feels heat rise into her cheeks. Normally, she’d come up with an excuse to cover it all up. Sand got in her eye, shit like that. But something about tonight pushed Cravs to speak more honestly.

Cravendy Hound: “Oh. Right. Well. Thanks for waitin’.” Cravs takes a seat on the sand next to Riylli. She keeps her eyes forward, pointed towards the water. “Truth is, I’m barely ‘eld together as it is. I guess I was both ‘appy and...sad with ‘ow it all ended.”

Riylli Aliapoh blinked, staring for just a moment before taking a seat again as well. It felt a bit unlike Cravs to be this open, but Riylli thought she might understand, the Miqo'te not exactly feeling like her usual self either. She picked back up the lantern she was working on, turning it over a bit to remember where she had left off. "...I tried to make to make one that would float, but I think the materials are too heavy for that..." She said, trying to make awkward small talk for a moment before giving up, putting the lantern back down and looking up towards the moon with a sigh. "Do you... wanna talk about it? I'm not exactly great with this whole... 'feelings' thing either but... I can listen, if you like?"

Cravendy Hound peeks over at a ‘lantern’ with a particularly unique design. “Well, ye get top marks for creativity. Really pushin’ the envelope for what can be considered a lantern,” Cravs teases, but the edges of her voice are rough with weariness. For the moment after, she watches the tide go in and out as she considers what to say. Maybe it’d help, maybe it wouldn’t.

Cravendy Hound: “I don’t want to talk about it. But...I think I should anyway. Doin’ shit I don’t want to do has worked so far,” Cravs eventually mumbles. She gives Riylli a worried look. “Ye sure ye want to listen? I won’t be mad if ye want to go ‘ome or somethin’.”

Riylli Aliapoh shoots Cravs a glare as she mocked her lantern, though to be fair, Riylli had been going off of a decade old memory for the design. Now was not the time to start arguing though, holding herself back from a surely witty retort and instead nodding to what Cravs said next. "...Ava says it's good to talk about these things." She said, going quiet for a few seconds before remembering Cravs would not know who that is. "Er... Ava is the matron of my clan. A mean old lady, but she cares about us in her own way. And she's a lot better with this stuff than me for sure."

Cravendy Hound smiles slightly, and then lightly bumps Riylli on the shoulder with a closed fist. “If the rest of yer clan is as unruly as ye, then the top lady has got to ‘ave balls of steel to keep ye all in line. And that’s a good thing. I’d like to meet ‘er one day.”

Cravendy Hound grows silent again as she considers where to start. So many memories were still razor sharp, as if one wrong step could send her careening back into outright depression. She takes a sigh and speaks, heart pounding. One has to try. “Do ye know why I’m an officer at ‘eartwood?”

Riylli Aliapoh managed to grin at the playful shoving, "Yeah, some of us definitely deserve a matron like her. Doubt anyone else could manage to keep us together." She said in agreement, though the moment of levity did not last too long as Cravendy continued. She shook her head. "I just assumed it was because you looked big 'n scary." She offered, hoping to add a bit of lightheartedness of her own

Cravendy Hound: “Aw, thanks,” Cravs laughs. It was good to know some things didn’t change.

Cravendy Hound laces her fingers tightly together, arms drawn around her knees against the chilly night. “If only it were that simple. Truth is, it’s because of who came before me. ‘er name was Aiswyda, and she was everything that I’m not. Friendly, warm...good. And all my problems were dumped onto ‘er.”

Riylli Aliapoh looked at Cravs in silence for a moment, not really sure how she was supposed to respond now. "You're... friendly..." She offered, though Riylli clearly had a bit of a warped view on how friends were supposed to act. She hesitated, giving up on that path as she turned her head downwards to focus on her lantern. "...I'm guessing that's who Rising's lantern was for then..?"

Cravendy Hound can’t help but laugh at Riylli’s attempt at lightening the mood. Guess it worked. “Piss n’ wind, don’t lie to me. But yeah. That’s who the lantern was for. I just wish...” Cravs trails off.

Cravendy Hound: “The reason why Dirtpatch was destroyed in the first place. Why so many died. I may ‘ave not known where the ball would roll, but I -was- the one to kick it all off,” Cravs muses. “I don’t know ‘ow to explain all this, but thanks to me, Wyda was given a bad ‘and in life. Took a fall when it was mine to take. But despite everythin’ I did to ‘er, she still chose to save me. I...” Cravs sets her jaw, tight. “...I’m probably not makin’ a lick of sense.”

Riylli Aliapoh smiles again, feeling the tension lifting off her chest for just a moment as she begins to think they might actually make it through this, only for it all to return as Cravs continued her story. Riylli looked to the Roegadyn, then back up to the moon as she tried to take some comfort in it's light. "...S'okay, we got all the time we could need right now..."

Cravendy Hound: “Why I draw breath when others more deservin’ lie six feet under...I never stop wonderin’ why.” She cranks her grip tighter and tighter still, until her knuckles are bone white and shaking. For a moment it feels like she’s falling, but Riylli’s words anchor her back into the present. Cravs sniffs, angry at herself for being like this, but at the same time grateful to share her thoughts.

Cravendy Hound lets out a haggard breath into her knees. “Yeah...but I wish the future would come faster. Ah, fuck.” She pushes her feet into the sand and, surprisingly, it’s warm underneath. “Fuck.”

Riylli Aliapoh goes quiet, her ears flattening and her tail finding its way into her lap. She looks away from the moon, staring into the sand for a moment just feeling... brittle. She's quiet for a long time, even after Cravs finishes speaking, though every second that passes just makes her chest feel tighter and tighter. Riylli finally grits her teeth, turning around and selecting three of the lanterns from her pile that actually looked serviceable. She placed them in front of her and tapped each in order. "Akosha, Kebbe, Mom." She said, her voice sounding rather distance before going quiet again, simply staring at the lanterns in front of her

Cravendy Hound - Cravs feels like a coiled spring, tense to the point of breaking. But this time, when she lets out a breath, her nerves leave with it. For once, she’s loosening, and the space between the ribs and lungs doesn’t feel so tight anymore. Because she clearly sees that she’s not alone. Because Riylli is here to listen.

Cravendy Hound stares hard at the lanterns. “What about ye? Ye want to talk about it?”

Riylli Aliapoh paused for a long moment, but soon found herself nodding. She had not really realized it until now, but she had not been waiting out here all this time just for Cravs' sake. She had had a feeling the Roegadyn might understand her own story, and her words just now had confirmed it. Still, it took her a while to begin speaking. "Akosha and Kebbe were my sisters... And mom was... well, mom." She hesitated, finally looking back up towards the moon as she tried to figure out where she was supposed to start her story. Another long moment of silence passed, Riylli just staring upwards lost in thought, before she eventually let out a sigh. "If you tell anyone what I'm about to say, I'll kill you. Got it?" She said, shooting a glare over to Cravs preemptively before turning back to the lanterns and continuing. "...When I was a kid, I was pretty much the complete opposite I am now. Dresses, dolls, all that... stupid, flowery shite..." She muttered, giving Cravs a moment to get whatever jokes in she might have ready

Cravendy Hound gives her all the space and time she needs, and simply waits. When Riylli threatens her with death, Cravs raises her hands defensively, though from the tired smile on her face, it’s clear that she’s just trying to lighten the mood. “Oy, I could say the same. But don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

Cravendy Hound: “I used to think that sort of stuff was stupid too. But not anymore.” Cravs plainly states with a shrug. “Only reason I don’t wear dabble in that kinda stuff is because other people’ll give me ‘ell over it.”

Riylli Aliapoh gave Cravs a hesitant look, still waiting for the jokes to come for a long moment before finally continuing. "..Anyways. I had thought it was all fine at the time. Akosha and Kebbe would go hunting, me and mom would cook what they caught. I never bothered to learn the bow, or the spear, or anything really outside a stupid sewing needle. Just a dumb stupid kid who was only ever worried about her hair." Riylli grit her teeth, clearly angry at the memory. She had to pause to take another deep breath, trying to calm herself down before continuing, needing her composure for the next part. "...And then... The Calamity happened. Fire raining down from the sky, beast and seedkin rampaging, the elementals throwing their stupid temper tantrum... We had to leave our home behind and run for Gridania, but things kept popping out of the trees to attack us like we were the ones at fault for everything going on." She paused, her hand going up to feel the scar on her eye, deciding at this point to just rush through the rest of the story. "A treant got a good swipe at me and my mom, and Akosha and Kebbe stayed behind to give us a chance to run. And that was the last time I ever saw them..."

Cravendy Hound digs deeper into the sand as she listens. Cravs feels mad on Riylli’s behalf - the world was just like this, wasn’t it? Calamities and disasters and suffering that had no end. It made her want to tear something, anything, in half. She lets out a huff, rips her hands from their grip, and plunges them both beneath the sand as if she were holding something hot.

Cravendy Hound: “Ye were just a kid, and no one could’ve stopped the Calamity,” Cravs states. She opens her mouth again and tries to find just the right words to say, but eloquence was never her strong point. So she just lets her heart take the wheel. “That’s terrible. Did ye ever go lookin’ for them?”

Riylli Aliapoh looked down, realizing she was holding her tail in her hands and quickly letting it go. "No, I didn't. I... Don't think I could handle seeing the home I grew up with all charred and destroyed." She paused and took another deep breath, realizing she had been doing that a lot and that it was not really helping. "I know I couldn't have stopped the calamity, but... I can't help but wonder what might have happened if I had stayed behind and fought with them. If I had just practiced the bow instead of the needle. If I had just been a bit stronger... I could've saved them. We all could've made it to Gridania together. If I had just..." She trailed off, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. Riylli grit her teeth brushed it away angrily, not bothering to care about smudging the paint on her cheek. "...Sorry. I was supposed to be listening to you, not dropping all my mistakes on you... Doubt that'll help at all.."

Cravendy Hound - Though the story is different, Cravs is all too familiar with what Riylli’s feeling. It feels like looking into a mirror in some ways...Being caught in what-ifs, the guilt. But seeing it from the other side is eye opening and for a moment, Cravs is stunned. “O-oh...no, listenin’ to ye ‘elped. I know ‘ow ye feel, and it’s ‘onestly, it’s torture.”

Cravendy Hound: “It’s not somethin’ that’ll go away. It just becomes a part of ye, and one day we’ll both be comfortable livin’ with those burdens.” Cravs struggles to hold back her own doubts. So many ‘maybes’ she wants to inject into her sentences because, the truth is, she doesn’t know what’ll happen. But by trying to be strong for Riylli, she finds a confidence she didn’t know she had. And by saying those words, she helps herself in turn.

Riylli Aliapoh glanced to Cravendy, scanning her face in the darkness. She could see the Roegadyn was not as confident in her words as she was trying to be, yet oddly enough Riylli found it comforting. She let out a sigh as she tried to relieve herself of her own tension, picking back up the near-finished lantern she had been working on and beginning to fiddle with it again. "...Do you mind if I ask what happened to Aiswyda? I dumped all my garbage on you, s'only fair you get to do the same"

(Cravendy Hound) ALSO I WILL SAY ;_; pain. wanna toss these two into the dryer and have them come out warm and fluffy )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Sad emotional night rp, but Riylli gets to feel less alone because of it and hopefully Cravs gets to feel the same!

Cravendy Hound tries to think of a way to tell Riylli without sounding insane, cutting corners, or talking her ear off. But it’s a situation where she can only choose two, or maybe even one. Cravs chuckles at what she’s come up with. Well, why not. Time to look like a loony.

Cravendy Hound: “She, er. Was kinda like a ghost walkin’ around in my body, but for over a year. But like a ghost that I unintentionally summoned. And one that didn’t know what she was.” Cravs dances around the word primal with mixed results. “Anyway, eventually she found out what she was, and thought we both couldn’t exist. So she chose what she thought was best for everyone...”

Cravendy Hound shakes her head in frustration - what a pisspoor attempt at explaining that situation. “It didn’t make much sense to me either.”

Riylli Aliapoh stopped working on the lantern, staring at it blankly as she listened to Cravs'... 'interesting' story. There was a long, looong moment of awkward silence, and then Riylli just began working on the lantern again. "Dissociative identity disorder?" She said, an awfully big term for such a dumb Miqo'te. "Or... Do you mean like... Literally..." She also hesitated to use the word 'primal', but it was obvious she was thinking it. "I feel like... That might be a story we might not manage to get through in one night, huh?"

Cravendy Hound: “What’s that mean? Er, or if it means what I think it means then...maybe? I don’t know. She was ‘er own person for sure though. But I agree. Maybe when I tell it a second time, it’ll come out better. One can hope.” Cravs sends Riylli a defeated smile.

Cravendy Hound has been chilled to the bone from being out for so long. She sniffs, followed by a shiver. “Bugger me, what time is it? ‘ow long ‘ave we been out for...Any longer and we’ll catch a cold.” Cravs stumbles up and brushes the sand off of her. “Come on, let’s go.”

(Cravendy Hound) AIGHT I gotta go eat now xD )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Okay! Lemme write up a closer, I'll send it to your discord! (Cravendy Hound) AIGHT I gotta go eat now xD )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Okay! Lemme write up a closer, I'll send it to your discord! (Cravendy Hound) ah cool!! KK, I'm gonna dash off :D )) (Cravendy Hound) ty for the rps! )) (Cravendy Hound) THIS WAS GOOD very blessed )) (Cravendy Hound) they can look out for each other :3 )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Yeah ^o^ Riylli talked a bit longer than I intended, but it was still nice letting them know they arent alone

"Nooot just yet" The Miqo'te girl said as Cravs, rushing the next few steps of the lantern as quickly as she can without destroying it. Luckily she had gotten enough practice in with the last dozen, and managed to create a serviceable lantern with just a few more twists of wire and plenty of glue. She holds it up into the air, admiring it for a moment before standing and shoving it into the Roegadyn's hands. "Here. I was just gonna make the three at first, but you were takin' so long to get back that I thought... Maybe you'd like to have one as well? Y'know... For Aiswyda." She says, awkwardly rubbing her arm, unsure if she was maybe stepping over the line. "C'mon, we can set them off and then head back to Heartwood." She said, leaning down and wrapping both her arms around the three lanterns she had already made before rushing off towards the waters edge. It was not exactly the same as the festivals Riylli had had when she was a young girl, but in the dark night with the moon reflecting down onto the water, the sight of those lanterns slowly floating away to join the light of the stars felt familiar enough to bring the girl back to a time where everything was simpler. Back when the world made sense, and she didn't have to fight so hard just to feel worth her existence. Riylli would not say anything else as they watched the lanterns drift away and out of sight, feeling like there was nothing more that needed to be said between the two after tonight. They were both messed up, but they were not alone. That was enough for her, and it was time to go home.

[heartwoodventures]

Primary Access Required: The Man With No Name

Dellont Gleauvahins entered Heartwood Ventures with a blank expression on his face, after hearing rumors about the company having been in Coerthas the man decided to come check things out to see if the rumors were true. Walking the few steps in he was met with someone sweeping and what seemed to be a group of people just relax. Bringing a hand up to his mouth the elezen coughed into it to grab the attention of anyone. "Am I right to believe that this is the home of Heartwood?"

"You would be correct." Haila stated, immediately turning over to the newcomer as she remained on her seat by the nearby bar. "And you would be?" she asked in return, a hand resting near the side of her head as she waited for an answer.

Aislinn looked up from the book she was reading and blinked owlishly. "That it is, yes." she said, a beat too late. She softly closed the book. "What can we do for you?"

Vanriri came from the back, making the final adjustments on her gauntlets; she'd been tending to the two numbskulls who'd not *only* broken a table with their antics, but *somehow* managed to knock one another into oblivion. How they had two braincells left to rub together was beyond her, but at least they were now resting comfortably.

Altani was far to busy tinkering with her arm blade to pay the elezen any attention grumbling to herself every so often

Aiswyda swept at the grass at the entryway. The whole endeavor is futile to begin with. With every pass, the grass flicks back the other direction and she’s done nothing but spread the fake dirt around a little.

Rising Lotus had been leaning against a column, watching Wyda for a few minutes now, confused as to why she was doing it but curious to see how long she'd be at it.

Dellont Gleauvahins looked over his shoulder towards the hyur and then back at the Viera. "Dellont Gleauvahins." The man offered with a small bow towards the group. "If rumors are correct you've been dealing with my brother's antics."

Haila arched a brow, they'd been certainly dealing with more than a few antics, for a moment she nearly asked which one. But given that the last dissection was still fresh in her mind, she understood right away. "Am I to assume said brother is the one that's controlling an armada of allagan machinery?"

Just like Haila, Aislinn's brows also rose a bit at that. She took a moment to carefully place the book back on the shelf before turning to the elezen. In all fairness, that could describe any number of jobs Heartwood was currently involved with but as the Viera posed her question, Aislinn made a soft "Ahh." Now it made sense.

Vanriri squinted slightly at the elezen once she settles the final strap at a comfortable snugness. "Your brother, ser--" she pauses, glancing at Haila, "ah, that clarifies things."

Aiswyda is far too invested at this point...The only option now is to carry on with the charade. Wyda puts down the broom and procures a dustpan from the cafe. She kneels over and sweeps into the pan, then tosses the ‘dirt’ out of an open window.

Dellont Gleauvahins lips thinned into a line, so the rumors had been true. "An armada? I do believe back when we were working on this project it was simply a handful to be used as test subjects, merely machinery that was meant to help add the military in war efforts."

Altani kept tinkering with her armor though she glanced up at the group every now and then,  idly keeping tabs on the conversation

Rising Lotus rose her hand to try and get Wyda's attention, but decided against it as it seemed much more important things were about to be discussed. The mystery would remain unsolved for now it seemed.

"From reports, it would seem to have grown to a veritable swarm, I'm sorry to inform you." Vanriri stated as she made her way up the first few steps of the staircase. Does she climb the steps to be taller? Maybe.

Aislinn glanced between Vanriri and Dellont. "That does seem to be the case. We've been trying to sort out exactly why, though."

The slow patter of boot-laden footsteps preceded the interjection of a voice that was familiar to some. "War against /who/, exactly? I wasn't aware the alliance approved of aether draining." Edda stated as she came into view.

Aiswyda neatly put the dustpan away. She met Rising’s gaze for a moment, and grinned slightly. “A bit of last minute cleaning! As we have guests over...” She then looks over to the elezen stranger, curious.

Altani started to get more and more interested as the group talked, but she kept to herself for the moment

Rising Lotus looked to Wyda, then down to the grassy floor, then back to the woman once more, shrugging with a sigh and turning to pay attention to the commotion.

Dellont Gleauvahins seemed confused at Edda's comment and the reaction his face made was clear enough. "Aether draining? They were meant to provide medical aid to the wounded on battlefields, it's quite the opposite. What has my brother done to them...." Running a hand through his hair Dellont took in a large breath before exhaling. "Tell me, what has Yvellont made these machines become? My purpose for them was to aid people not harm them."

Knuckles tensed, the young sorceress snapped back -- "You can answer /our/ questions first. Give us a reason to trust you." Edda then spun on her heel, pacing toward one of the tables where she soon seated herself.

Dellont perked a brow and the look of shock never left his features, the elezen was so confused on what damage his brother had caused. "You may ask me whatever you wish, I have nothing to hide from you."

Aiswyda listened with rapt attention, but held back from saying anything. The extent of her understanding was literally just this - robot spiders bad. Robot spiders in Coerthas? Smash.

Edda idly, she sipped at a steaming cup clutched between her fingertips. "This project of yours. Who ordered it, and who else was involved? This can't have been a two-man job."

Altani didn't really know what anyone was on about, but she wasnt about to let anyone else know just how clueless she was

As Edda asked her questions, Aislinn quietly studied the elezen, interested in what he may have to say. Anything that might shed light on the bioweaponry that currently had her and Haila stymied would be helpful.

Vanriri frowned slightly, pondering. She was only just beginning aetherial studies--she couldn't say much with any authority--though she supposed if they'd been previously designed with medical aid in mind, some of the core features may yet rely on that... She shifts her gaze from the elezen, to Edda, and back again.

Dellont offered a shake of his head. "No one ordered it, simply two brothers who lost enough during the Dragonsong War, including our father. We had done research in efforts to find ways to hopefully protect our loved ones or offer some strength in battle to keep them going. The devices were meant for Healers to infuse their aether into crystals that were held inside the machines, once they reached the target the merely had to break the crystal over them to heal their wounds. Until they were able to make it back safely, the size of them were to stay about that of a small pup. Large enough to carry what was needed but small enough to scurry across the field without being detected."

"There were some of those things way bigger than that wern't there? Spose when they're all swarmin' over each other it's hard to tell the exact size of 'em." Rising Lotus mused.

Aislinn, herself, hadn't been there during this attack though she had dissected the one they brought back. "Hmm...aye from what I understand they may have drifted far from that purpose. They apparently sought out our medics in an attempt to drain their aether." she glanced around the room, at those who had actually been out in Coerthas.

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Wyda smiled at Dellont. A beat. She sensed the overall mood in the room and quickly turned her smile into a stern frown. “Er, but Rising’s got a point. And what we saw in the field was a far cry from what you intended...”

"Who oversaw their manufacture during this early stage?" Edda asked.

"Bigger? No no no, they were never meant to be larger than I had explained, there was no need for it. Yvellont and I were the only ones that knew of these plans and how to build it, no one else was meant to know about them until they were fully functioning properly." At Aislinn's comment the man's face paled as he looked over towards the Hyur. "I beg your pardon?" He had heard but couldn't believe it.

"Then you will give us these plans. It may afford you a deal of clemency when the two of you are brought to justice." Edda stated.

Aislinn shot Edda a swift, quelling look out of the corner of her eye before looking back to Dellont. "Again, from what I'm given to understand, they attacked our medics. We've been working on some way to shield them going forward out in the field but...do you know why your brother might want to turn them into weapons instead of what they were originally designed for?"

“They were pretty aggressive. Attacked and chased us around. You ever punch a robot before?” Wyda shivered, and shook her head. “...but I’m sure the others could go into it in more detail.”

"There was a veritable /swarm/ of them shooting at us." Edda added.

"I can't give you plans that I don't have, and justice? I have done nothing wrong but simply try and help those in need, if anyone shall be brought to justice it'll be Yvellont. The only reason he has all the blueprints for the machines was due to him blowing up our last lab in an attempt to kill me." The scientist scoffed at the mage before turning his attention to the other two. "I have never punched a machine before as I'm not exactly the physical type, and I'm unsure. I'm just as confused as you are as to why he would target your medics."

"Much like they mentioned, had it been a random group of adventurers, I doubt that we'd be standing here right now. But that poses way more questions." Haila commented, shrugging some as she had been silent for far too long. "Justice or not, you know more than we do about this subject, and your brother seems rather keen on being well hidden as well."

Altani began to feel somewhat bad for the elezen having  everyone's eyes and judgement on him, she was tempted to speak out in defense of him but she didn't feel good about sticking her neck out for some stranger

"I'd say that brings enough to offer a good deal if your intention is to put a stop to this as much as we do." Haila said.

Aislinn nodded in agreement with the viera.

Vanriri cleared her throat. "We've more pressing matters, for now, than laying blame or subsequently questioning your intentions. If you do not have plans at present, then perhaps you might help our own researchers recreate them--we've several specimens, I believe."

Edda frowned, hissing in irritation as she set her cup down. "Your own role in this wretched affair cannot rightly be ignored. You didn't keep /copies/ anywhere?"

"I have told you all that I know, I haven't even been able to track down Yvellont after he vanished, and I would like for him to continue thinking that he succeeded in killing me. If he knows I'm tailing him then he'll move locations and we can't have that. The only other thing that I may offer is I had denied him in wanting to further the project, a simple project to aid healers that he wanted to turn more into war machines." Removing his glasses Dellont rubbed the bridge of his nose. Those that looked could see the large scar that formed across his face, aftermath of the explosion perhaps. "If you have specimens then I can help look them over and see what he's done, perhaps he hasn't changed the coding on them and I can see what he's planning." Placing his glasses back on the elezen simply ignored Edda, focusing more on those that weren't throwing a fit.

Haila sighed softly, "We can show you, it saves me the trouble of tracking the damn man out myself. And keeping recklessness to a minimum is what we should be aiming for." she stated, pausing to glance around at everyone still standing. "We can discuss some more, but I believe 'tis past due that we at least offer a seat or a cup of tea for a guest."

"It's reckless to place our confidence in strangers bearing gifts. I needn't relate to you how Nym fell." Edda pressed.

"Confidence and common courtesy are two separate things, if he knows something we can use, then at least a fair trade is in demand." Haila replied.

"Perhaps his intentions /are/ pure. I feel that time should be taken to assess this." the mage countered.

“Were you ever close with your brother? Was he always the sort to try to kill his kin or create dangerous aether sucking spiders?” Wyda tapped a finger against the tip of her nose, in thought. She then meandered over to the cafe, and as she does so she thinks aloud to herself. “I’m just wondering what his end goal could be...”

Vanriri couldn't deny that she shared some of Edda's misgivings--and she was fairly certainly the Adders, and Ishgard's own knights would be keen to know this particular Elezen had come calling, considering his connections. Regardless of whether or not his intentions were genuine. She frowns slightly.

Aislinn tilted her head to Haila, acknowledging the viera's point. Sometimes she forgot things like social graces. "Aye, Haila's right. No harm in having some tea and a sit while we talk."

"By all means. I'm not advocating tossing the bastard in a cell." Edda relented.

"I'm an Allagan researcher, I found the subject intriguing as to what could be built from it, after seeing a few designs from old works it's what gave me the idea for my creations." Holding hand up Dellont waved a hand dismissively to Haila's offer. "I will simply stand as I seem to make some of your members uncomfortable but I will still lend the knowledge that I know." A golden brow perked at Wyda's question and a soft sigh was heard. "We were once close, connected to the hip one would say."

"Please, ser, sit. We can all abide some small discomforts." Vanriri gestures. "You mentioned your motivations for these creations began to differ--is this the root of your schism?" She moves closer to the tables. Vanriri likewise makes shooing motions for everyone to sit, because everyone else is just milling about, too.

"Then you're not alone, I'm also an Allagan researcher, and as you can tell, a few more of us also hold some knowledge of it in their own fields. But just from looking at the few samples of machinery we retrieved out there, your brother also has a grasp on it farther than average." Haila said to the elezen.

Aislinn glanced over at Vanriri and quietly moved to a seat while she listened.

Rising Lotus meandered her way over to the pastry table, plopping down while everyone else talked out the technicals.

Altani shrugged, wandering her way to the cafe, though she'd stay standing for the moment

Aiswyda shakes her head disapprovingly at the mention of Allagan. It seemed that, no matter the context, dabbling in old tech always led to shenanigans. However, her expression softens when Dellont brings up his estranged brotherhood. “Sorry to hear...Perhaps he can yet be convinced to stop.”

"There's blood on his hands. A crossbow bolt will stop him well enough." Edda said.

"Farther you say? I'm rather curious to what he's come up with." A roll of the eyes and another sigh was heard from Dellont. "Perhaps I should just leave with what info I have and the help that I could offer if comments like such will continue, such childish manners."

"This same man tried to murder you, didn't he?" Edda quickly replied.

"Whether my brother tried to murder me or not he's the key to stopping these and if you kill him then all is lost then his army is left to run freely." Dellont's reply came just as swift.

"Edda, I must ask that you behave this time. Bringing someone to justice doesn't mean killing them will be the solution, that's us being vigilantes instead. I'm not going to bring up the ethics that each city has for judging their guilty, what we have here is work towards a solution for the job we took." Haila spoke a tad sharply, moving over to a chair to arrange and take a seat herself.

"He'd be beheaded in Thanalan. Still, justice needn't be premature."

"Then let the authorities decide that instead of taking that into your own hands."

"I intend to."

Aiswyda fretted over Edda and Haila. “What happens /after/ we take care of the robots threatening Eorzea, we can figure out then! But we’ve got someone here, willing to help. So before we toss anyone into gaol, let’s sort out the present, eh?”

Vanriri hopped up onto her chair so she can ...see over the table. "Allagan technology inspired these creations, you were saying," she prompted, trying to usher the conversation along, and sends Wyda a grateful glance.

Dellont moved towards to pillar to lean against not intending to sit down as to when this was all done he could leave right away. "Now, what is it you wish to know and what info can you share with me about these creatures? There was mention you were able to get a few subjects, what did you find within them?" With a soft hum Dellont turned his attention to Vanri. "Yes, hearing stories of such creations and even being able to witness one I saw greatness in them. Yvellont and I were stuck on what could possibly help our people in battle, aid the healers even, so I started the blueprint process. I started off with one of course, there were so many tests, how to be able to track someone down that was injured or low on aether through tough terrain. I had to make my own wiring for the system so that the cold winter winds wouldn't damage them."

Flatly, the witch murmured -- "It's rude to stare." She set her now-empty cup aside.

Aiswyda caught herself in a distant stare, and awkwardly looks away. “Eep, sorry...I was just...well..” She pinches herself in an attempt to wake herself up, but her ever present exhaustion remains.

"If it's anythin' they seem to work pretty damn well in the snow, jus' have the healin' part a bit backwards though." Rising Lotus spoke up.

Haila Wetyios nodded along a little as he started talking some more about how all this came to be. "Let me ask this then, did the original machines you created intend to mix in flesh with the circuits?"

Dellont stared in horror as his nose scrunched in disgust. "Why on earth would their need to be flesh mixed in with the circuits? The circuits worked perfectly fine the way they were."

Aislinn eyed Dellont with a bit of bemusement. "Well, as we can show you, it's certainly a piece of bioweaponry now. Flesh and circuits and a core we can't seem to break into."

"Was the core meant to be fully allagan? Except with added adaptations to be managed by a core of your own creation?" Haila asked.

Aiswyda‘s eyes droop, and she leans over for a second before snapping back to attention. Godsdamn it - already at her limit, again. Before she embarasses herself by falling asleep on the table, Wyda excuses herself from the table and quickly disappears into her room.

"The core was meant to be fully allagan, yes, easier to control the creations and the power source they needed. The core itself is meant to be linked to each one to send signals to one another, for example if one were to find a group of injured people it would send a signal to others to assist it. If I'm correct and he hasn't changed anything there should be a main core connected to all of them which is what he would need to control them. But from what you've told me he does indeed have it."

As the door swings shut behind Wyda, one might catch a glimpse of a certain turquoise-garbed, red-headed solider looming behind the door--evidently eavesdropping on the conversation from the shadows.

"If you mean the small core we found connected to the main allagan core, then yes, it had one. Though buried underneath circuits of both nerves and real wires. Not to mention that whatever data it had was encrypted to keep from prying eyes." Haila nodded.

Aislinn hummed in thought. "So. There should be logs in the core. A readout of the number of times our little spider was pinged by the main core. Maybe some sort of identifier we could use if we take ours out somewhere far from here and fire it up. See if we could get a read on where the main core was pinging from?" she said, sketching out the details in her head as she thought aloud.

"We would need to be somewhere safe and well hidden cause the moment we ping the main core our location is also given away and not long after will his swarm come searching." Dellont replied

Aislinn nodded slowly, the idea still forming. "Aye, hence the taking it far from here. We don't want this place overrun with those things."

"Safe, well-hidden and unpopulated." Edda added.

"All of this still means we need to get access to the core, of course." Aislinn sighed.

Haila's ears perked up at the mention of safe and hidden. "It sounds like my lab would be the better option to do so then... Though I'd have to cut off the main door for a time if we do that there."

"Giving them the location of /your/ lab doesn't sound like a good idea either. Surely it would be better to carry out the process somewhere remote and unimportant." Edda countered.

Aislinn North nodded in agreement with Edda

"...Underwater, perhaps?" the witch proposed.

"I'd be telling them I'm buried under the sea somewhere near Othard."

"Given that our mark is also a technologist, would he not be able to infer that there's a workspace present?"

Rising Lotus raised her hand a tad "Aye, way out of my league here, but what path will they take to get to wherever you are going to do whatever it is you do? Wouldn't be good if they're swarming through towns takin' the most direct path or somethin'."

"Perhaps... But only one attuned to the inner aetheryte would be able to access it if I cut off the gate I have in here." Haila replied.

Dellont tilted his head in Haila's direction. "If she's able to send our signal in a different direction then we might be alright, they're not meant for water so if the signal shows us in the sea somewhere near Othard they won't come. Even if we took a boat to the deepest part of the sea we would be safe."

"So the signal range truly has no limits... Figures since 'tis allagan. Though whether my lab was located or not, it wouldn't have made a difference given what's needed to access it through normal means." Haila said.

Aislinn tapped a idle finger on the table in thought. "Once we have that information though, I imagine we'd need to move in fast on the location. I'm guessing your brother will up and move quick once he puts two and two together."

Haila paused. "That too.."

"Correct." Dellont nodded.

"Station multiple teams in different city-states. Dispatch the closest." Edda offered. "This also has the advantage of being better-equipped to pursue him if he moves."

"Aye, with somewhere around Coerthas being my bet." Aislinn nodded.

"I planted several modified aetherometers ever since picking up that distant signal during our encounter, but I haven't had a chance to check on them. Or at least I know I shouldn't try alone." Haila stated. "But if he didn't move locations, it should still be in Coerthas if not near it."

"Could see if the city states would be willing to have teams ready to find em if he happens to not be in Coerthas, just so we don't split ourselves that much." Altani proposed.

"Securing the aid of the temple knights should be rather simple." Edda replied. "...The same cannot be said for the Flames."

"Well I'd assume the Temple knights would probably help out near coerthas compared to the Flames. Jus' a distance thing." Rising Lotus stated.

"Yes. Obviously. I mean to suggest that we would need some form of support in Thanalan."

"I mean...could just pay them, Gil usually works better then most things with the flames."

"You can bribe the Brass Blades. These are soldiers."

Dellont Gleauvahins nodded in agreement with everyone. "We'll have to think of any possibility that could happen to be prepared for what is to come. But I would like to grab some equipement so that I'm able to assist in these matters."

Vanriri Vanri hops down from her chair, having been silent for most of the discussion to allow the others more knowledgeable than she to speak on matters at hand. "I will escort you, then, ser."

Aislinn sat back into her chair as though pushed. "Seems like we have our work cut out for us. Get into the core and get the logs, check the aetherometers, coordinate with the city-states, drag the bloody spider out to Haila's lab and then hope we can find this man and track him down before he runs." she ticked off each finger and then gave a wry smile. "That's not too much, right?"

"That being said, how should we contact you again? Coming here might be a bit of an issue if you mean to be as discreet as possible in holding out the card of your death still being a fact." Haila asked.

Aislinn nodded and looked over at Dellont for his answer.

Dellont Gleauvahins looked down at the lalafell now at his side. "Much appreciate it, I honestly don't know the Shroud well enough to navigate it." He wasn't about to admit he got lost for a bell or two and that's why he showed up late. "Yes! That....would be helpful." The elezen patted around his coat until he found what he was looking for, two linkpearls in hand and he took one to toss to Haila. "Communication might have to be limited just to be on the safe side, I'm still unsure what he's capable of."

"Fair enough" Haila said, catching the linkpearl with a single hand. "I hope if you find something that needs to be communicated immediately, you tell us. We'll do the same on our end mister Gleauvahins."

Dellont Gleauvahins: "Of course, I'll be sure to do so." He offered another bow to the group before focusing on the lalafell again. "Shall we get going...Miss?" He never caught anyone's names.

Aislinn North made a noise of agreement. "Makes sense." she rose smoothly from her seat. "In the meantime, thank you for coming and offering your help in all of this. It should speed things along considerably. Stay well, Dellont."

"I hope you all stay safe." Dellont said by way of farewell.

"May we meet again." Haila replied.

"...Traders protect." Edda said.

Aislinn let go a soft breath as their guest left. "Right, then. Still some bells left in the day. I should get started on a brief for Nyscera. She'll want to know all of this." she gave a nod of farewell to the rest of them before heading for her study.

[blooms-of-ice]

RP Log: Lin invites Barengar over to meet Wyda!

( @lettersnorth​ @autochthonousone )

Barengar Requingris had been somewhat surprised. It was everyday that he received a missive from Aislinn asking that he come visit so that she could introduce a friend of hers to him. Needless to say we wasn't about to let a request from her go unanswered. So he found himself leave so that he could make the trip to Heartwood headquarters for an evening. It was fortunate that it wasn't too far of a jaunt from Ishgard. It left more time for actual time spent with dear friends. So -- as he entered the building -- he heard the subtle murmur of chatter from below and made his way downstairs. He peered around the corner as he made it to the bottom. "Aislinn. Y-ou down h-ere?"

Aislinn North "...so here's the thing. Zorah and I were ready to sneak quietly by but that wasn't good enough. He had to jump out and yell at half a dozen pirates, all with loaded weapons." she shook her head. "/That's/ why he ended up all shot up. Something's not right with him. The Raen has a death wish." she paused as she heard Ren's voice. Looking up, a smile flashed briefly across her face as she hopped to her feet. He had made it. "Over here." she motioned to Barengar with a certain degree of excitement.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn was eager to meet Barengar, having been told about the man by Aislinn for several months now. This made her a bit more scatterbrained than usual. Whatever Aislinn was talking about, Wyda wasn’t quite listening, although she did a good job of /appearing/ to be. Lots of nods and ‘you don’t say’ and ‘oh wow, interesting.’

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn - The moment he made it past the corner, Wyda got up from her seat, a wide smile already set on her face. The sudden motion sent the stool clattering. “It’s the man of the hour! Welcome to Heartwood!”

Aislinn North saw the stool begin it's downward journey and neatly sidestepped out of its way as though it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Aislinn North once it hit the floor and stopped, she merely bent down and set it back to rights again.

Barengar Requingris offered a subtle smile of his own upon sighting the two women. One decidedly familiar and the other vaguely so. He dipped his head forward in a firm nod and his customary grunt in way of greeting. "It's good t-o see y-ou." He offered to Aislinn before blinking and turning his gaze to Wyda's exuberance. "I ... ah ... " He cleared his throat before letting out a low chuckle. "Thank y-ou. Aiswyda, aye?"

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn nods once, and pats herself on the chest. “Yup, that’s me! It’s great to have an opportunity to meet you proper. Only so much could be said on your wedding day.”

Aislinn North Glanced between the two. "Aye, Barengar this is my good friend, Aiswyda. Aiswyda, this is Barengar, practically, nearly, might as well be family." she said by way of introduction.

Barengar Requingris glances back over to Aislinn and gives another subtle smile, dipping his head forward slightly. "Aye. Family in ev-ery way tha-t it matters." He glances back to Aiswyda. "An-d it's good t-o meet anyone tha-t Aislinn calls friend. They're a friend in kind as far as I'm concerned."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn gave Ren a good, long look. “Ah, yes. I can see the resemblance.”

Barengar Requingris blinks at Aiswyda.

Aislinn North a small smile of amusement danced around her lips.

Aislinn North shook her head. "You know, most people don't." she quipped.

Barengar Requingris blinks again, looking over to  Aislinn now. He just stares for a moment .. and then lets out a low and easy laugh.

Aislinn North motioned Barengar further into the lounge. "Come in. Can I get you a drink?" she did her best to look him over surreptitiously. He appeared to be in good health, which was a relief to her. "How's Ishgard?"

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “You both have that same, kind look in your eyes!” Wyda noted. She nodded to Lin’s statement, the idea of drinks always welcome in her book. “Right. Why don’t we all settle down somewhere? Would be rude to have our guest stand by the stairs...Unless you feel the need to run at all times.”

Aislinn North tilted her head. "Not Ren."

Barengar Requingris has certainly kept to the advice given to him. He was keeping his activity low. At least as low as he could. There still was the occasional pulse of aether from him but it wasn't anything beyond what had already been observed and he'd been keeping to the breathing exercises. It helped. He looked to Aislinn and nodded. "A porter if y-ou h-ave one around." He answered lowly to the first question. There's a slight look of amusement at Aiswyda’s observation regarding the eyes, his head shaking slightly before he answers the second of Aislinn's questions. "Cold an-d full o-f folk tha-t think they're more importan-t than they are." He grumbled slightly before offering up a single chuckle. "Bu-t it's well."

Aislinn North nodded. "Porter. Got it. Wyda?" she asked as she moved behind the bar. She shot Barengar a look of humor. The way he put it didn't make it sound 'well' to her. "Imagine that's mostly on account of Ellie. How's she doing?"

Barengar Requingris: "Hale an-d healthy. Good spirits too. Though it's gettin-g a bit hard f-or h-er t-o work as h-ard as she's used to." He laughs quietly, shaking his head. "Which was, admittedly, too much."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “If there’s any rum left, that’s what I’ll have.” She takes the corner seat by the bar...just in case Ren wants to stretch his legs and sit on the far right. Tall people problems. “Ooh, Ishgardian high society?  Now that’s something I know next to nothing about.”

Aislinn North rummaged behind the bar for a pint glass. Finding one, she set it on the bar and then lifted herself up on her toes in order to read the draught taps. "Hmm. You and me both." she murmured a bit distractedly. Finding the porter, she 'ahha'd' and poured the highlander a glass and passed it his way. "But, Ren here's a knight of the realm." she said with a smile the belied the pride she had for him in rising so high.

Aislinn North dipped under the bar and popped back up  with a bottle of dark rum and a glass. She poured the Seawolf two fingers worth, neat. And left the bottle on the bar. For herself, she found a decent whiskey and did the same.

Barengar Requingris reaches his head out to slide the glass the rest of the way toward him. His head shaking with a gentle amusement as Aislinn brings up his knighthood. A notion that he'd only recently become used to. "Suppose tha-t's true, aye."

Barengar Requingris: "Though I tend t-o leave all th-e ... "high society-ing" t-o Ellie." He wrinkles his nose slightly before laughing and taking a drink.

Aislinn North slid a good-natured glance to Aiswyda. "He's still won't let me call him Ser Ren, though."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn gratefully takes her glass with a nod. “If he’s a knight, then that’s what he is though, right? Ser Ren.”

Barengar Requingris rewards AIslinn with a flat look. Look what you've done now, Lin. He lets out a low laugh all the same before taking a drink and shaking his head. "Maybe when I'm in Ishgard." He conceded. "Bu-t h-ere?" He glances between the two women with a subtle smile. "Jus-t Ren."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn senses Ren isn’t used to what she imagines Ishgardian society to be (stuffy, fancy, very... cold?). That said, she can recognize what Aislinn is playing at. The sort of good-natured jabs that only old friends can make.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: "Ser Just Ren."

Barengar Requingris blinks.

Aislinn North let go a huff of laughter in reply to his look. She slid her glass to an empty seat and came around the bar. She pressed her lips together at Wyda's response in an effort to keep back another laugh.

Barengar Requingris is frozen half-way from a sip as he slowly turns his attention to Wyda. Did she just ... he can't help but laugh at the sheer audacity. He finally takes his sip, murmuring into the cup. "I'm out numbered."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn doesn’t bother holding herself back. Seeing Ren’s reaction, she lets out a bark of a laugh and heartily pats him on the shoulder. “Hah! Just pulling your chain. But yeah.” In a lower voice now. “You're on our turf now, hehe.”

Aislinn North shook her head, taking pity on him. He did, after all, come all this way because she asked. "Alright. Supposing 'Ren' has worked so far." she said, taking a sip of her drink.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn hasn’t tasted her drink yet. Blasphemy! She quickly corrects that.

Barengar Requingris takes well enough to the clap on the shoulder, an amused expression upon his features as he dips his head toward Aiswyda in silent concession before looking back over to Aislinn with a simultaneously mirthful and grateful smile. "We can reassess 'Ser Ren' once 'Ren' stops workin-g." He offered, grunting. Coarse as it might sound, it was good natured and friendly.

Aislinn North tilted her head in concession, a twitch at the corner of her mouth compromising her expression. "Fair enough."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn is happy that Ren is rolling with the punches. And while she’s got ten thousand questions buzzing in her brain (what your favorite food? Color? How do you like your eggs?), she figures that Aislinn probably has her own need of Ren’s time. She holds back the floodgates for now.

(Aislinn North) ((ahahaha! I kinda want to see that!)) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) LOL just rapid fire 0-context questions! Quick!! Does Ren put his left boot on first, or his right? xD )) (Barengar Requingris) (( Oh no!! He'll never be able to keep up! )) (Aislinn North) ((ooo...cake or pie? That's always a good one)) (Barengar Requingris) (( Pie!!! )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) is this Ren's pref or yours? :D )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) because this is a hard choice for me.......cake is so good.....so is pie )) (Aislinn North) ((It definitely depends on the day)) (Barengar Requingris) (( Pie is ... definitely mine! But I also contend that cheesecake is a pie, so ... your mileage may vary! )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) fdklsf cheesecake is a pie?!? )) (Barengar Requingris) (( I mean ... it has a crust!! LIke a pie!! )) (Barengar Requingris) (( And it's more like a filling!! )) (Barengar Requingris) (( But I'm a dangerous radical in this regard. )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) fkldsjf but it has cake in its name!! but I feel like I get your reasoning )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) it's not like other cakes...... )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) cheesepie )) (Barengar Requingris) (( A pie is a pie ... by any other name ... )) (Aislinn North) ((Isn't cheesepie a totally different thing?)) (Barengar Requingris) (( I ... oh no ... is it?! )) (Barengar Requingris) (( I think some folk put cheese on apple pie?? )) (Aislinn North) ((That's awesome and I recommend it)) (Barengar Requingris) (( Well now I have to!! )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) I can attest cheese + apple is an A+ combo )) (Barengar Requingris) (( I've been living a life of deprivation, apparently! )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) I have never heard of cheesepie though. My god, it looks incredible )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) It also kinda looks like just a bunch of humus in the shape of a pie slice. I'm flip flopping between hunger and confusion )) (Aislinn North) ((It also confuses me. I mean, it's /almost/ cheesecake. I'd try it.))

Barengar Requingris leans forward to take another drink from his porter as he glances over each shoulder to his company. "I don't think tha-t I asked. How are y-ou both doin-g? Well, I h-ope."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn instead finishes her drink with the very clear intention of getting a wee bit tipsy. As soon as it's emptied, she finds the rum bottle left on the bar and irresponsibly fills her glass. "Hm, you want the long answer or the short answer to that?"

Aislinn North settled in, shifting in her seat and getting comfortable. At his question, she studiously does not look Wyda's way, keeping her face a study in mildness.

Barengar Requingris tilts his head to the side slightly as his attention is draw Wyda's way. "Ah ... I suppose whichever y-eur more inclined t-o answer wi-th. I'm no-t th-e sort t-o pry."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn shrugs her shoulders. “Well enough. We went on a picnic recently, actually!” The Seawolf leaves out the part where she slept in jail for god knows how long. Weird topic to bring up to a new friend. Maybe if she’s feeling bold after a few more glasses..

Barengar Requingris bobs his head to the side slightly. He didn't precisely understand what the *long* version of that story was but he -- as he said -- wasn't about to pry. It sounded nice enough. "A picnic?" He glances between the two. "T-o somewhere in particular?"

Aislinn North now safely glanced their way, a measure of a smile at the memory. "Well, we ended up near the Drydocks. We were in search of a box Wyda had buried awhile back. Only, she couldn't quite remember where. So we were all there to help jog her memory. Found it too, in the end." she said by way of explanation.

Barengar Requingris tilts his head curiously again. A missing box? This definitely sounds like a smaller part of a bigger story. So he nodded. "Tha-t ... sounds like a nice place f-or a picnic." He offers with a quiet laugh, taking a drink. "I h-ope tha-t all was well wi-th the box?"

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “I buried the box awhile ago, mind you,” Wyda added. “Lin found it stuck underneath a bunch of blackberry roots. But! We had a picnic before that, and one of our mates brought pie.” She smiled at the memory. Potlucks...are objectively the best. This is FACT.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Do you go picnicking in Coerthas? Or would that go by another word...”

Aislinn North took a swallow of her drink. "A bloody miserable time?" she offered. Aislinn would never grow to like the cold or snow.

Barengar Requingris nodded his head slowly as the box was explained a bit further. Though his nose wrinkled at the question regarding Coerthas and picnics. "Ah ... " He couldn't keep himself from letting out a single laugh. "Aye. Lots o-f picnics inside." Is that even a picnic?

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn is interested by the idea of indoor picnics. "Wow, I've never done one of those. We should have our next picnic inside too." Wyda is completely genuine, braincells already working hard on the logistics of such an event.

Barengar Requingris can only laugh at the sincerity of the expression. Who was he to say that you couldn't have a picnic indoors? Picnic was a state of mind, after all. "Jus-t pull up next t-o a fire an-d eat w-ith y-eur h-ands."

Aislinn North not at all dissuaded or surprised by Wyda's train of thought, she had known the Seawolf long enough by now, she glanced up towards the ceiling and the floors above. "There is the indoor garden upstairs. Suppose that would work just as well too."

Aislinn North: "Really not a bad idea when it gets cold outside."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Ooh, yes...A bit of fire, a bit of finger food, and have it in the garden upstairs...Everything’s shaping up! Ren, you and your wife would be welcome to come by too!”

(Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) during potluck q/a: ok who's bringing the fire for our indoor picnic )) (Barengar Requingris) (( I nominate Aislinn! )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) that's a safe bet :D )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) ren brings the 'cheesepie' )) (Aislinn North) ((You can definitely put her down for fire XD)) (Aislinn North) ((Wyda can cover the rum)) (Barengar Requingris) (( Barengar, arriving to the potluck with a wheel of cheese: "Cheesepie.")) (Aislinn North) ((Change of plan. Ellie can bring the cheesepie)) (Barengar Requingris) (( *laughs!* )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) LOL )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) A picnic of just fire, a wheel of cheese, and rum. All indoors. this is the sort of irresponsible fun I live for, both OOC and ICly xD ))

Barengar Requingris: "An-d it's definitely always cold in Coerthas..." He grumbled quietly before glancing over in Wyda's direction. He lets out a quiet laugh. "Indoor picnics are -- probably -- h-er favorite sort o-f picnics. So th-e invitation is appreciated."

Aislinn North corner of her mouth curled up in a warm smile as she took another drink, glad that Aiswyda and Barengar seemed to be hitting it off.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn dutifully saves the idea for later. “Hah, keep an eye out for a letter then! I can hardly wait.” And this is truth. The time for partying is always now.

Aislinn North nodded to Ren, letting him know Wyda was indeed, serious.

Barengar Requingris lets out a quiet laugh as he glances to Aislinn just as she gives the confirming nod, bobbing his head to the side. "I'll keep lookin-g forward t-o it." He offered with a low chuckle. He pauses for a moment to take a drink from his glass. "H-ave y-ou been at the mercenary life long?" He asks Aiswyda with low rumble.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “I think so?” A terrible answer, all around. She gives a pleading look towards Aislinn, like a student seeking hints from a teacher during a pop quiz. Except there's really no reason to /not/ know the answer to such a question. “A year maybe?”

Aislinn North nodded, jumping in to help Wyda without another thought. "I think that sounds right. You signed up only a short time before me, aye? Only been one Starlight here." an odd way to track time, but an efficient way for her to tell how long she's been in a place.

Barengar Requingris followed Wyda's gaze to Aislinn, his brow rising slightly in question. That was ... weird. Though he lets it be and simply gives a slow nod of his head. "A-bout th-e same as y-ou then." He observes, speaking to Aislinn. He looks back to Wyda. "It was an amusing thing. Jus-t as I was leavin-g th-e business." He chuckles quietly before looking back to Aislinn again. "It's good tha-t y-ou h-ave such solid comrades."

Aislinn North leaned forward on the bar so she could look at Wyda. "He made it look so easy, mercenary life." she explained to her friend. Flicking her gaze back to Ren, she gave a lopsided smile, a dimple appearing in one cheek. "It is. They've kept me in one piece, that's for certain."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn is always grateful to have Lin as backup, whether it was to answer questions she rightfully should know the answer to, or catching chairs, or literally saving her life in combat. “It can get tough, but we’re a good crew of people. And if anything bad happens, there’s nothing G’lewra can’t patch up.”

Aislinn North raised her glass before taking a drink. "Nymeia's Blood, that's true. We're lucky we have a medic like her on board. Some of us more than others."

Barengar Requingris bobbed his head forward in concurrence, a slight smile upon his lips. "Hells know tha-t I benefitted f-rom th-e same when I f-irst started. I owe a lot t-o Bastion." He wrinkled his nose slightly. "Jus-t don't tell h-im I said that." He grunted and took a sip from his glass, glancing over to Aiswyda. "Tha-t's wha-t it's all abou-t afterall. Bein-g in a comp-any."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn smiled, and raised her glass. “Aye, aye! No truer words have been spoken.”

Barengar Requingris lifts his glass in turn, grunting a solid chuckle.

Aislinn North tipped her head up to eye Barengar questioningly. "Do you ever miss it?" she asked. It was a question she had pondered but never found the time to ask.

Barengar Requingris glances back to Aislinn. "Mercin-g?" He asks.

Aislinn North simply nodded

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn attentively leans forward.

Barengar Requingris draws in a slow breath, leaning forward onto the counter as he considers the question. "I'd be lyin-g if I said I never missed parts o-f it." He offered without hesitation. "Both bein-g in a comp-any an-d bein-g freelance. Each ha-d their draws." He glances down at the meager remnants within his glass, swirling them slightly as he held the rim with his fingers. "Freedom. Excitement. A chance t-o put m-y ability t-o the test." He stops the swirling, briefly setting the glass down and letting the liquid come to a gradual stop. "Bu-t ... I don't regret leavin-g. Even if I miss it sometimes. It was ... simpler. In a lot of ways." A small smile touches his lips. "Bu-t complex isn't always bad."

Aislinn North eyes fell to his near empty glass and she rose to pour him another as she considered his words, letting them roll around inside her head. "It does have its ups and downs. I like that every day you never know what might end up on the job board. But aye, complex isn't bad. Not if that's where life takes you."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn listens thoughtfully, idle hands winding a lock of hair around a finger. Freedom, excitement. And on the flip side, loss and danger. Adventuring was by no means the perfect pastime, but then again...what was? She nods, agreeing with Ren’s words. “We just make do with what we got. Strive for more. And the way I see it, nothing truly ends. It all sticks with you for as long as you can remember.”

Aislinn North nodded along in agreement with Wyda as she passed Ren another porter.

Barengar Requingris dips his head toward Aislinn and then glances over to Wyda and does the same. A slight smile pulls upon his lips. "Aye." He murmured lowly, thoughtfully. "Jus-t changed it all out f-or a whole different kind o-f excitement in a way." He dips his head gratefully toward Aislinn as she refills the glass. "An-d, aye. Y-eur righ-t. It doesn't really go away. Not when y-ou remember."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “...that said, if you’re ever in need of an escape, you know where to find us. To get a fix of some adventuring proper.” Wyda whistles innocently.

Aislinn North looked swiftly at Wyda, unable to keep the look of alarm from her face. "Ah...just. Not at the moment." she felt the need to say, as if Ren didn't already know he couldn't be putting himself in harm's way and fighting.

Barengar Requingris lifts his brow slightly as he slowly turns his attention over to Aiswyda as she makes her nonchalant offer. He just stared in her direction for a moment before letting out a steady and pleasant chuckle. "I can't deny tha-t bein-g a temptin-g offer." He pauses looking back to Aislinn as a single corner of his mouth tugs back into an amused smile. "Righ-t. Doctor's orders." A slight sigh came after it as he took a drink. It was hard being patient.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn looks between the two, a lightbulb lighting up above her head. “Ah, right! Not saying you should go out and make things worse...? And I wouldn’t want to explain to your wife why you came back from your ‘night out’ bloodied and battered.”

Barengar Requingris emits a single laugh at that. "Ah ... I'd definitely get an earful t-o be sure. Though it'd likely be somethin-g along th-e lines o-f 'Why didn't y-ou bring me?'."

Aislinn North nodded solemnly, reaching for her glass. "As it should be."

Aislinn North shook her head. "But also, again. 'Not at the moment' applies to her as well."

Barengar Requingris looks back to Aislinn and gives a much wider smile at that. At least for him. "Y-ou won't get any arguments f-rom me on tha-t front."

Aislinn North glanced at Wyda with a smile of her own. "Ren here is going to be a father in a few short moons."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Ooh, she sounds fun! Let’s bring her along!” Wyda corrects herself on Aislinn’s answers. “Ahem. Right, the responsible thing to do is to not bring her along.” She doesn’t know the reason why, but she’s not going to risk it.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn and now...she knows the reason! “WHAT. Wow! That’s crazy! How exciting!”

Barengar Requingris glances over at Wyda as she does the quick verbal about-face. An amused expression crossing his features. Though it softens slightly as Aislinn reveals the impending fatherhood. He prepares his reprisal. "An-d Aislinn a godmother." He added, giving a firm nod.

Aislinn North: "I've been recalling as many sordid stories about our youth so I'll be prepared to tell them all about all the trouble their father got into."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn sheds a single tear. She’s so proud of Lin. Perfect godmother material.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Be prepared...when the baby comes, it’ll be nothing but sleepless nights for you. A formidable challenge to be sure.”

Barengar Requingris barks a single laugh at that, shaking his head. "Already lookin-g to undermine m-y authority." He smiling, of course. The man positively beside himself with happiness over the fact. He pauses a moment, dipping his head toward Wyda. "An-d it's goin-g t-o be all the more o-f a challenge wi-th three." He glances down at his cup for a moment. "A blessin-g tha-t Ellie's family is as excited as we are."

Aislinn North shook her head. "They're going to outnumber you."

Aislinn North ever the strategist, she knew those odds did not fall in his favor.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “By the Twelve...I suppose I should be saying, by the three!” Wyda shakes her head in disbelief. “All the more joy! But Lins right, you have to be careful.”

Barengar Requingris laughs and bobs his head slightly to the side, conceding to both of their warnings. "If our childhood taught me anythin-g, Aislinn." He glances back over to Aislinn with a slight smile. "It's tha-t three's trouble."

Aislinn North He was treated to a flash of a wide smile and a bubble of laughter. "At the very least, you're forewarned, which is forearmed. Should help you to stay at least one step ahead of them for awhile."

Barengar Requingris felt his own smile widen slightly at that. "Aye. Though ... y-ou can expect me t-o call f-or back-up." He pauses and looks over to Aiswyda. "An-d y-ou should bring Aiswyda as well."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn beams at Ren. “AH yes! I’d love to see the rascals! Show ‘em how to climb trees and...hm, when do kids learn to walk...” Wyda is counting someone else's eggs before they hatch.

Aislinn North took a moment to weigh the joy of seeing three children run circles around Ren against stepping in and mercifully helping him out. She slowly nodded. "I think that's part of my duties as godmother."

[fistsoflightning]

fairy tales

o, ocean, take me back to your depths.

                                gatheredfates’ [30 day WOL challenge] | prompt: home

cw: attempted suicide. not explicitly until the end, really, but wyda’s got some super duper not fun mental issues! she needs therapy. pwease take caution!

sailors and sellswords like to tell tall tales, and the one syhrwyda remembers the clearest is not the one of passioned romance, of some hero sweeping a maiden off her feet and riding into the sunset—who even reads those anymore—but of mermaids, and sea foam.

they spin little wyda tales of a mermaid longing to come to shore, seeking out her “prince” and sacrificing everything to be with him—and they whisper how there is no happy ending to this story among themselves, but little wyda is too entranced by images of underwater kingdoms and marble palaces to completely understand the meaning behind the little mermaid diving back into the ocean, at the end. the sea foam only exists for an ephemeral moment, after all, so little wyda dreams of going out to sea one day, on a grand adventure.

once upon a time, a lonely giant wandered far, far away from home, not knowing how the world spins its wicked wiles to make adventure seem only alluring.

if little wyda had known what she’d grow up to be, she would have stayed home in her pumpkin patches and groves of orange trees, blissfully unaware of just how deadly an axe could be. the price to pay for adventure was steep, and she was not the only one that paid for it.

she feels so at home drowning in her guilt, wallowing in the pain stuck within her chest despite all that she’s done to build herself a tower above it. the giant. blinded by her own grief, fails to notice the village full of people by her feet.

syhrwyda sits at the countertop of her kitchen, writing words twisted into stories furiously in a bid to keep herself for falling asleep, because gods know she deserves not the mercy of dreams she cannot have. the broken shards of the glass sculpture broken in the fight weeks ago are still scattered across the floor; she thinks she may have been the only one coming home for weeks. she thinks that she might be the only one to come home after ala mhigo is freed.

on her back is not only the weight of a broken almost-family, but of those she shattered herself, of futures she will never see because of a few dozen half-truths and forgotten memories. her hands are coated in grime and callouses and blood, but she runs them through her dirty gold hair anyways, knowing nothing can make her look worse than she already does.

regardless of who comes home, syhrwyda waters a’dewah’s flowers, keeps zaya’s goldsmithing bench dust free, reorganizes duscha’s books and elwin’s collection of random gears. she keeps the empty house as much of a home as she can, in the off chance that one of the others doesn’t want to stay shattered.

the giant travels and travels, chasing shadows and geese in the hopes that one or the other will lead her back to the path she wants to take. the one where her hands have only callouses from pans and small knives, from swinging off tree branches and running around with baskets of oranges.

quietly, in the minutes between each hour, syhrwyda hopes no one does come home. she doesn’t want anyone to see her like this, losing sleep and hope and energy with every moment she spends in this almost-home. she really should sleep—she’s been seeing a man clad in black armor hefting about a sword nearly as tall as him from the corners of her eyes. his judgement is more than enough to send her insane.

she tries to be a hero, once. picks up an axe she dreads with all of her being and dons the clothing of someone who hasn’t seen a fight before, running for a cause that might help her forget the shadows and villages. she fights, and fights, and fights…

and in the end, there is no one left to fight, and she is undone.

in every fairy tale spun for little wyda, the villain had met some sort of unsavory end. the sharp end of a sword, the cold cells of a kingdom, the ashes of a long-burning flame. one way or another, the heroes and innocents emerge victorious.

so the giant throws herself into the sea, turning to foam as the heroes of tomorrow look onwards unto a new day, the sun free of the shadows of a not-quite-hero.

and before the gods can come and judge her darkest hour, syhrwyda breathes deep of the ocean no matter how much it burns her from the inside out and pretends she can hear llymlaen calling her home, home, home .

[furymint]

2019 Creator Reflection

Pick a favorite piece for each month to celebrate the year! Reflection under the cut.

January: i dont remember writing another poem this year after this one, and i dont think i could necessarily top it: i think this is one of the better ones i’ve written. it’s tldr abt elliot n his anxiety abt proposing, and why he won’t do it, and i feel that its focus and imagery is tight even tho there’s a few trips in rhythm, which i think help convey his panic

February: i’ve distanced myself from this one a lot, but i think it’s still p strong. nol’s rant is a bit preachy, tho it sources from smth he’s thought abt a lot and which is a thorn in several of his conflicts: self-image, reputation, class, n identity. the undercurrent is also censorship within vulgarity and truth, which is a mega issue in war-related literature

March: honestly one of my fav things. i love writing brucemont, and i love nol’s relationship w the dead, and w elliot, and w bruce. it was difficult as usual to get the fight scene done, and pronouns are a special hell, but im happy w how it turned out.

April: i liked the language in this one. alliteration kept coming to me, which was as annoying as it was a help bc it can easily overload a sentence, but it felt snappy to write even w the long sentences. we also stan the vigil, as always

May (1 / 2): the first was a really excellent exercise, all things considered, and finding a way to combine each route n hone in on each questline helped me remember some plotting basics. thank u wyda! / this one was one of my first sets w separate characters in gpose, rather than taking separate pics and combining. ofc the flashback pics were heavily made up, but the pics w nol n eli were all shot w timing, which was a lot easier than expected

June: this one took a long time, but it’s fun to do frame-by-frame animation n add grime, so that’s what i did. i liked organizing the colors on nol n dav, and the lighting turned out really well. it tells a lot abt them, too

July: ironically, altho this was one of the most complicated puppeting jobs ive done, it went rly smoothly by how excited i was abt it. i blame absolutely everything on this shitpost

August: ah yes. my Novel. i honestly love this thing to death, and im astounded by how quickly i wrote it and how finely done it is. def my achievement of the year, sans college things. its the first project i’ve begun from page one and will finish in order. will!! plz look forward to it!!

September: happy ffxivwrite! faith crisis or not (elliot’s always having one of  those) i wrote fluff. i havent done that in like. 3 years. at least. not to this degree. one day ill write all the stuff that’s in exposition!!!

October: this was a slow month bc i was working on everything i’ve posted for november n have yet to complete, but i did hit 80 gnb and got nol his greatcoat!

November (1 / 2 / 3): a big month! the first big segment of wedding au, a nol thing for armistice day, and an eli edit i ended up falling in love with. i think i bled keeping up the pacing in wedding au, but im super glad w how it turned out. the points of intensity work and im grateful for it. then, i wanted to keep the tradition of confronting some military things for 11/11, and tho i didnt hit the date, i finished it. i’ll never feel like it’s “enough” to cover a topic that deserves a book, but for 1k it’s a entry.

December: another slower month bc of family n trips, but i did manage to write--holy shit--smth fluffy. i don’t usually use the ouroboros technique in my writing, but it felt extremely appropriate here w the cycle of death n life in the story.

-----

overall: this year was stupid, and also really good. i finished my thesis, graduated magna cum laude w english honors, joined phi beta kappa, got working meds, made friends, went to ny twice, read more books than i have in so so long, and sorta learned how to drive. no responses to internships, and no response from potential job yet, but i know 2020 will be the year i get to work and im excited to get started. also first au!!! im gonna do it!!!!

and past reflections, for ref: 2017 | 2018

[endangered-liaison]

Release

This darkness within you needs an outlet. A release.

((All of this is going under a readmore, because it’s...not worksafe. I’d tag it as just that, but we all know how Tumblr feels about all that.

Content warnings: explicit content, masturbation, technical selfcest, encouragement, dirty talk, thoughts of polyamory, Wyda having a whole host of Issues. And...vague cuckoldry fantasies??? Don’t ask me where that one came from, Wyda’s her own person and that person is a mess.))

_ _ _

Wyda can't sleep.

She tosses and turns, grumbling under her breath before resigning herself to simply staring up at the ceiling. It's no use.

Maybe it's the book she read before bed. Maybe it's the conversation she had with Hyrt, talking long into the night about aether and being and leaving her too wired, too aware of everything, to consider something as unimportant as sleep. Maybe it's the fact that Victoria isn't next to her for once, leaving half of their bed empty.

Maybe it's the fact that Victoria is staying at Max's place tonight.

Oh, no, nothing like that. Just a III Squad girl's night. Max had invited Vicky out for drinks in Ul'dah, and Wyda had opted to go home to the Mists. It's nothing untoward.

Probably.

That's probably the reason she can't sleep. Probably the reason her mind is buzzing. Filled with thoughts and what-ifs and a thousand ideas, each less likely than the last.

...would they kiss tonight?

Would they fuck?

The buzzing in Wyda's mind shifts. It's burning through all of her, now. Thrumming through her body as that last thought overtakes her. As her mind shifts to images of her girlfriend and Maxima, entwined. Max pinning Vicky down, all smirks and confidence and scratching, biting, claiming her.

Why doesn't that bother her as much as it should?

Can't sleep? Hyrt's voice asks, interrupting Wyda's out-of-control thoughts and dragging them back to the here and now.

"Aye." She tries to keep her voice steady.

There's a low chuckle through her mind, smooth and assured. Need a hand?

The words send a shock of feeling through Wyda's body, a lash of pure lightning that she does her best to ignore. That's not what Hyrt means. She means conversation, or something else to help her sleep. Hells, maybe she means a lullaby. Not...the other thing.

Not the thing it just so happens to sound an awful lot like. She doesn't have any idea of how Wyda is feeling, after all.

"I'm alright. I don't need you telling me bedtime stories just to get to sleep, y'know." There. Light and airy. Humorous. She even smirks as she says it.

That's not what I meant.

Wyda's breath catches, and she realises her hand has been teasing circles on her bare stomach, beneath her shirt. "W-what?"

I can help you, with what you're feeling right now. Hyrt's voice is calm, as always. Patient. If you'd like.

She hasn't...she hasn't done anything like this since before her coma. The mood hadn't felt right. The threat of death had been hanging over her and she didn't feel right to have any sort of desperate, clinging final night of passion with Victoria. And she certainly didn't feel right about getting herself off in that situation. And since her soul was reforged, she's just been...busy. The mood hadn't taken her.

But now, she realises, the mood is really, really taking her.

"What...what exactly are you offering, Hyrt?" She doesn't mean for her voice to sound so breathy as she asks the question. So desperate.

Encouragement.

Max's teeth, sharp and always more pointed than a hyur's should be, flash in her mind. Her tongue trailing over Victoria's pale, gently scarred neck.

Is that something you'd like? Hyrt's voice is quieter than normal. Closer. Like a whisper in her ear. Encouragement? Release?

Wyda's hips twitch. Her free hand reaches up to grip and grasp at her pillow.

There's no pressure. If you want to be alone for this, if you're uncomfortable, I'll leave you be. Retreat inwards, and try my best not to feel what you're feeling.

Feel what she's feeling.

Oh. That's right.

The two of them are connected. The idea that Wyda could have hidden this need from Hyrt is...ludicrous. Of course Hyrt is feeling it. Hyrt might well be feeling it more acutely than she is.

"T-tell me what it's like." Wyda manages to say, eye wide and breath shallow. "Tell me what you're feeling."

Desire, Hyrt says. I feel...I feel everything you do to us. Every touch, every building moment of want. E-every dip of your fingers, every brush of your hands over your skin. I feel it all. One of them makes a thoughtful, desperate little noise, but Wyda doesn't know who it was. But I can't control it, not like you can. It's all a surprise to me. All unexpected.

Wyda's hips roll, and she slips her hand beneath the waist of her sleep shorts. Her fingers brush against her thigh, and she bites her lip to stifle herself. She's so needy already. So wound up. How long has she needed this? How long has she been denying herself?

Hyrt gasps. L-Like a lover's touch. Not my own. It drives me wild.

She presses her fingers closer to her center and oh, there, she feels it. Something shudders in her mind, an unspoken, unheard noise that thrums in identical rhythm to her own desire.

A-ah! You drive me wild.

Wyda chuckles, low in her throat, and the sound morphs into a whine as her fingertips stroke over herself. "Aye?"

I feel...I feel... Hyrt stumbles and falters. Takes a moment, as if to compose herself. ...Need. She practically growls the word.

Wyda's fingers stutter in surprise at the intensity of it. Her forefinger brushes against her clit, and whatever noise she was going to make as a response shifts into a moan. Her hips buck upwards to meet her hand, gripping her pillow tighter.

She sees Victoria in her mind, above her. Chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Bucking on someone's fingers. Hers? Max's? Hyrt's? Wyda doesn't know any more. It's too much.

It's so much, it's been too long, and having this with Hyrt speaking into her ear, it's...

"Hyrt..." she groans.

That's it. You're doing so well. Hyrt's voice is strained, like a woman holding a heavy weight above her head. Like someone struggling to stay in control. Just like that. Are you ready for more?

Wyda nods, absently, before she manages to remember that it's her own fingers that she's pleasuring herself with right now. Her thumb settles against her clit, rocking back and forth as she effortlessly pushes two fingers into herself.

Hyrt keens. Yes! Yes, y-you're doing so well! Just like that, jjjjust like that. Keep going, keep going, please keep going...

Hyrt may as well have asked Wyda to keep breathing, or to keep her heart beating. She's too far gone. There's no way she's stopping. No way she's going to do anything other than grind against her hand, moaning and writhing and gripping her pillow like a lifeline.

She rolls on to her side, angling her hips just so, and stars dance behind her eye. She feels like crying, or screaming, or laughing. It's so much. So intense.

The Victoria in her mind cries out Max's name as she comes.

W-wyda!

All at once, she's struck by it all. Overwhelmed. Flooded by the sheer intensity of Hyrt's want for Wyda. Her need, and her love, and lust, and...and...

She feels everything.

And for a single, blissful, perfect moment, she feels whole.

[lettersnorth]

Flowers for Wyda

Cravendy had left another letter on Lin’s door - meandering paragraphs that asked about how she was doing, what she was up to, and then letting her know how Dirtpatch was faring. As the paper was running out of space, Cravs had fit what she really wanted to ask in a narrow sliver sandwiched between small talk and the edge of the page. ‘I’m going to visit the Isles of Umbra to visit Wyda. Meet me at Aleport if you want to come along, and bring flowers.’

Cravendy waits by the docks, the sun burning high in the clear skies. In her right hand, she holds a bouquet of slightly wilted wildflowers, though at the center of it is a metal rose twisted from wire.

For the whole length of the letter that Lin found on her door, it was the last few lines, squished in along the bottom of the parchment that packed the punch and scatter the rest of the words like so much chaff. Not to take anything away from the work done to Dirtpatch or the strides the villagers had made. But some things simply hit harder than others. And this, Aislinn had learned, would always be one of them. So at the appointed time she arrives on Aleport's dock, her own bundle of flowers, a collection of pastels, held in the crook of her arm. Bright, happy, cheerful colors someone like her had no business holding but did nevertheless. Catching sight of Cravendy, she makes her way over to the woman and manages a sort of smile. A sketch of one, anyroads. "Got your letter." she says by way of greeting.

Cravendy turns at the sound of Lin’s voice and similarly forces a smile onto her own face. Ever present was an anxiety hooked between her heart and her throat, one that pushed her to expect the worst. To expect Lin to not show up. But it was often proven wrong, and seeing Lin brought a sense of relief to Cravs.

“Aye, and I see ye brought flowers. Are ye ready to push off?” Cravs gestures to a boat behind her. It’s the same one that had delivered them to Dirtpatch several times before, though this time, it would embark on a voyage to somewhere darkly familiar.

Aislinn glances at the boat, the question settling like lead in the pit of her stomach though for Cravendy's sake she bravely attempts to hold her barely there smile in place. Something very dark flickered in the back of the woman's eyes. She hadn't stepped foot on Umbra since that day. "Ready as a person can be." she said with a bright patch of honesty. Nevertheless, she nods. "Let's head out."

Cravendy nods and goes to step down onto the boat, balance naturally found on the rocking vessel. She can tell Lin is nervous, because Cravs is as well. The Isles had only been regarded at a safe distance, as shadows on the horizon since that day. But today, they would walk back into that place. Once the anchor is raised and the sails are drawn, she turns to offer a hand to Lin to help her step onto the boat as well. To go on this journey, together.

Inhaling a breath, Aislinn takes Cravendy's offered hand briefly. Her hop into the boat feeling filled with a sense of finality. A tacit agreement that yes, she would do this and no, there would be no turning back. She sets her bundle of flowers down carefully in one of the ship's holds, along with Cravendy's own and goes about helping the Seawolf shove off and make way. She thinks about making small talk but she never was very good at that sort of thing even at the best of times. So she settles for something direct. "Was it the lanterns Dirtpatch released that brought this to mind?"

“That was the trigger. But...I’ve always wanted to come back here. Been too scared to do so until now, but...” Cravs trails off, careful to not let her worries soak into her voice.

The ride over is quiet, the winds calm. Just saltwater splashing gently against the wooden body of the boat. And the Isles are, as usual, an eerily haunted place. Like stepping into an old overgrown garden that had once been loved...though the memories attached to this place were not of love, but of pain.

The exact spot where the battle had taken place is untouched. Where a fireball had turned sand into glass pincushion, where sections of the cliff had been chipped off - it’s all still there, though worn by time. However, one thing is different. To the side is a pile of sand with blue forget-me-nots growing around it in spirals. At its center is a stick with a red ribbon tied to it, blowing slightly in the wind.

Cravendy fidgets with her bunch of flowers. Now that she’s here...now that she’s here? Maybe she wasn’t ready to face this.

By now Aislinn was no stranger to stepping into difficult situations. This was all at once no different and nowhere near the same. As they moved in tandem across the gloaming beach, she breathed easy, slow breaths, her footsteps moving almost of their own accord until suddenly, they were there. She froze then, staring at the battle-scarred cliff face, the crater of glass and for a moment she can feel the heat of the fire, the rush as the aether leaves her and her shields shatter, Rising and Rolanda yelling and then...darkenss. Swiftly, she shakes her head as though tossing off something truly unpleasant. She refocuses on Cravendy, noting her shifting movements. "Not exactly easy to stand here, is it?" she murmurs. "With it all almost the same way we left it." she pauses and notes the flowers and ribbon with a furrowed brow. "Except for that. Where did that come from?" She approaches the spiral of blue flowers slowly, the sight of them by far a greater comfort to look at than anything else here.

Cravendy focuses on the shape of the fluttering ribbon and brings a hand up to her own. Of course, they had been here to clean up. Cravs had known that Percy and Barnable, old crewmates, were cured of their tempering, that they went to the east to chase down their errant captain. If only she was strong enough to be here earlier. “I think my old crewmates came ‘ere. This is both Wyda’s and Dot’s resting spot, after all,” she says, and the sound of her own voice surprises her. That there’s any voice at all. She steps over and kneels down to observe the flowers. It was unusual for these to be growing in sand and salt water.

Aislinn is quiet a moment as she lets that sink in, a tumult of emotion barely contained beneath a tightening of her lips. Nothing more. She understood she only knew a small fraction of Red Argos story and it was likely the poorest part. Instead, she reaches down and settles her bundle of flowers next to the stake. Cravendy shadows Lin’s movement, placing her own bouquet next to the other woman’s. The silence of the Isles unsettles her, like it ought to be filled with something other than cold sand. That she needs to fill the air with something warm. Cravs leans back and takes a seat, as if having a picnic with the marker. “I’m sorry it came to this, and that I came so late. I was so scared of makin’ a mistake, it was like I was paralyzed. Wouldn’t do anythin’, or worse, I’d...” Cravs swallows, mouth feeling dry all of the sudden. But she carries on talking to the grave. “But bein’ scared doesn’t change the outcome. That by not makin’ a choice, I was makin’ one anyway. One where I did nothin’.”

Cravendy sighs and shifts her head to the left, now addressing Lin. “I’ve been tryin’ to do good with this life I’ve got. The one Wyda gave to me. And I’ve been tryin’ to come to terms with everythin’ that’s ‘appened. I still remember what ye said that day. Accept that it ‘appened, move on. There’s only did and didn’t ‘appen. Maybe it’s the only way of ‘ealin’. To accept that they’re gone, that it was bad. To accept the...permanence of the past.”

Aislinn stands silent as Cravendy addressed the grave, her gaze fixed on the red ribbon fluttering softly in the breeze. Her head turns ever so slighty in Cravendy's direction as the Seawolf speaks to her. The churning depth of feeling forcing her to press her hands to her stomach, to take measure and try to translate the ache within into words. "It's not so easy as that though, is it?" she replies. "Acceptance and moving on. Like I can stuff it in a box, lock the lid and never look back on it. You weren't wrong either, that day on the range. That's what I was trying to do. But acceptance doesn't mean forgetting."

She sighs softly and sits down next to Cravendy, shifting in her seat. "I miss her. I know she'd have a lot to say about some of the things I'd catch her up on. Things I'd confide in her." her gaze flickered to Cravendy and then away, embarrassed. "Sometimes I try to imagine what advice she would give me. What jest she might come up with to make it all seem silly. How she'd laugh in delight and tease me about some things right about now." Another soft sigh escapes her. "I'll admit my imagination is a poor substitute. I'm too serious by half."

“At first, I thought healin’ was meant forgettin’. That otherwise, ye’d be burnin’ with the full pain of it all, forever. And that was the only way ye could pay back the fallen,,” Cravs notes. A pang of shame stings her, as denial had brought Wyda into existence. She shakes her head, disappointment weighing heavily on her shoulders. “But it’s not like that. Ye never forget or stop missin’ someone, and healin’ is simply...well. It’s just like ‘ow Dirtpatch rebuilt itself, but the scars are still there. Ye may as well refer to it as existin’ instead. We live and carry on.”

Cravendy Hound catches the small look Lin sends her way. “Ye really are too serious for yer own good. I’ll be sure to grab ye on whatever bullshitery I get myself into, to mix things up for ye. To remind ye I’m ‘ere.” She grins slightly. “Oh, and, I’ve been meanin’ to ask...’ow ‘ave ye farin’? Somethin’ keepin’ ye busy as of late?”

Aislinn nods slowly. "I think I like that way of looking at it. People we lose leave a scar and we're changed. But we don't forget where the scar came from." As Cravendy affirms her earlier observation, she puffs out a breath. "Suppose if another person sees it, it must be true. Some bullshittery might do me good." As for the question, she pauses unsure how Cravendy would respond to her idea she feared she was becoming akin to a bad luck charm. She shakes her head. "Office work for Heartwood's been keeping me at the House. That and the clinic. I'm sorry I missed the last bit of work at Dirtpatch. But they're up and running now?"

Cravendy Hound: “Aye, better than before, really. The place has become quite the fishin’ ‘ub, and the docks ‘ave never been busier. Although I told them it was fine, they were adamant about payin’ ‘eartwood back financially for the rebuildin’ support. So expect a check from them every now and again.” Cravendy sniffs, and it's followed by a shiver. Lin was just Lin, and she looked fine. But something seemed off. Cravs can’t put a finger on what she’s feeling though. “Are ye sure yer okay? Don’t ‘ave a fever or somethin’?”

Aislinn's 'tsk' sounds sharp in the soft silence surrounding them. It's in response to hearing Dirtpatch is going to be sending gil Heartwood's way. "Suppose we can turn around and take that money to buy fish or somesuch from them, maybe twice above asking or do you think they'd see that coming?" she pauses and sends a calculating look Cravendy's way. "Maybe ask Bertram to do the buying. That way it doesn't look like its coming from Heartwood."

As Cravendy presses, Lin leans back a bit. As if doing so could keep the Seawolf from sensing what she knows the woman must be sensing. The corrupted aether she's storing like some living, breathing cursed relic. "Maybe I'm a bit off considering where we are and all." it wasn't exactly a lie, she told herself. Therefore she wasn't -exactly- a hypocrite and it still would never come as easy to her as some people she knew. She comforted herself with this logic. This was different!

Cravendy Hound: “And what would we do with all that fish? If we eat it day in day out, I’m sure someone’ll file a complaint,” Cravs jests, a smile spreading on her face as she imagines the halls being filled with buckets of excess seafood. “And Dirtpatch’ll see what we’re doin’ anyway. Maybe, we could...buy their fish, and sell it in Gridania for them. That way it’ll ‘elp get them more customers. But I do like the idea of sendin’ Bertram to do it. Full time fish courier, heh. What a job title.”

Cravendy plainly takes what Lin says at face value. It seemed a reasonable explanation, and who wouldn’t feel off given the circumstances surrounding this place? Cravs nods. “Aye well. If whatever yer feelin’ gets worse, let me know, alright? Ain’t good to let somethin’ bad fester...believe me. I know.” Aislinn finds she can't look directly at Cravendy as she nods in what should be a wordless agreement to not let something like this fester. Affirming it with words seemed a step too far into 'definite lies' territory.

Cravendy sighs, eyes fixed to the flowers they’ve left on the sand. The truth was, Cravs felt there was something off with herself as well. She had chalked it up to being primal-puppeted for the past year, and had always assumed it’d go away eventually. But it didn’t. “Maybe I’m the one who’s off, and not ye? I know we’ve been talkin’ about ‘ealin’ and everything, but there’s something...wrong.” "Wrong how?" Aislinn asks, shifting her attention to Cravendy once more. "With you?"

Cravendy Hound: “Funnily enough, not with me, but...” Cravs hesitates, After all this talk of carrying on, to bring this up would be like ripping the wound open again. Or, at the very least, would make her sound like a broken record. “Okay, just so ye don’t think I’m crazy. All this stuff we’ve said? It sunk in, alright? Ye can’t bring back the dead, nor should ye.”

Cravendy scratches the back of her head, deciding to just go for it. “But no, not with me. But with...Wyda? I get that she’s gone, but...I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Cravendy Hound: “Ye know what, there’s definitely somethin’ wrong with me. I definitely ‘ave more than a few marbles loose,” Cravs jokes as she kicks her legs out and leans back.

Aislinn didn't think it needed to be said. "Of course you don't bring back the dead." Whether or not one -could-, well, that was a different story and Lin knew very well what black magic could do. She felt a shudder slide all the way down her spine. "What do you mean...wrong with Wyda? How...why do you think its something to do with her and not...I don't know." Aislinn was traveling into deep waters she knew next to nothing about. "You shared the same space, didn't you? Could it be something residual to do with that?"

Aislinn North shifted to face Cravendy fully now.

Cravendy Hound: “I...never really put this into words. I don’t really know, it’s just a feelin’, and it’s ‘ard to tease out when exactly it started. When yer ‘ands are full from keepin’ yerself together, ye don’t keep track of the details.” Cravs shrugs to herself. “But now that things ‘ave gotten better on my side, I noticed it. Kinda like when ye can sometimes ‘ear a ‘igh pitched sound ringin’ in yer ears, and other times, not ‘ear it at all.”

Cravendy meets eyes with Lin for a second, but finds the stare a little too intense to hold for too long. “I’m probably just bein’ paranoid.”

Aislinn doesn't know what to make of what Cravendy is telling her. Logically, -logically-, she knows it can't be Wyda and she tamps down any wild speculation before it can even begin. She won't let herself go there. She turns and watches the ribbon tethered to the stake dance in the breeze. But then again, Wyda herself was impossible, wasn't she? A primal. "I...don't know what to say to that. Other than to say intuition is a hell of a thing. You said something's off. Don't ignore that. I'm...just not sure what it would have to do with Wyda."

Cravendy‘s gaze falls to the small blue flowers dotted around the grave. “Yer right. I just don’t know ‘ow to act on this feelin’ yet, since it’s so vague and all. And maybe this is just what it’s like to miss someone.” But missing someone didn’t mean their skills were transferred to you. And if the person was dead, it didn’t usually entail worrying about their well being. Cravs grumbles something about sleeping earlier today and gets up.

Cravendy Hound: “Ye know, now that we’ve been ‘ere awhile, it’s not as dauntin’ anymore. Still sad, but that’s fine.” Cravs brushes the sand off of her arms and legs, then holds a hand out to Lin to help her up. “Time to ‘ead back?”

A low noise comes from Aislinn's throat that says that though she couldn't agree entirely with Cravendy, as long as she remained focused on the flowers and the ribbon, she could see how it might not appear to be so bad. Taking the Seawolf's hand, she heaves herself up with a word of thanks. "Yeah...time to head back." she agrees as she likewise brushes the sand from her clothes.

"This was a good idea, Cravendy. Coming out here. I think she would have liked it." She takes one last look at the spiral of forget-me-nots and the ribboned stake with the addition of the flowers they had brought. With a breath, she nods to the makeshift grave and turns to join Cravendy on their way back to the ship.

[heartwoodventures]

It’s Probably Pirates

The letter arrived on Heartwood’s doorstep and almost immediately set off a flurry of speculation among the tight-knit group. It appeared that one of their own was in the gaol. 

Hi! Wow, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it? I hope everything’s been running smoothly. How’s the garden doing? Has it been sunny?

<What follows is several lines of text that’s been scribbled out to the point of resembling a black blob. Following many smudges and water damage, it continues...>

So, to get to the point. I’m writing from Aleport’s jail. Weird, huh? Pretty wild. And unjust! I probably should’ve written that first but jailers only gave me this pen, so I can’t erase and I’m running out of space. Oh, anyway, I was just visiting La Noscea to check on my farm, one thing leads to another, and I get tossed into jail! I’ve told them countless times they have the wrong person, but they won’t listen. They’ve got me mixed up with some pirate and think I’m feigning ignorance. Maybe you guys could tell them otherwise? I don’t know how much more...questioning...I can take.

-Aiswyda

Certain that this was all a misunderstanding, Heartwood hurriedly sent a small team out to Aleport to set things straight and secure the Seawolf’s release. While the port itself was a drunkard-filled hub of commerce, it was also home to one of the Maelstrom’s jails. Built of stone stained white from salt, the gaol was tucked away in one of the settlement’s darker corners guarded by Yellow Jackets posted at the entrance. 

Near the jail’s door was a wooden bulletin board, covered in layers of leaflets old and new. This was where the party agreed to meet. It was cold. The wind was salty. The Yellow Jackets didn’t even bother looking up as the team gathered. 

For his part, Nazyl had been on his way to inform N’yami of the newest development regarding other business. Of course, Heartwood seemed to get up to strange things while he was gone. So now he was...apparently breaking an ally out of jail. He really couldn't get on the Maelstrom's bad side, else it would adversely affect the aforementioned business. Nevertheless, he joined with the rest on the way, grumbling.

Crific meandered through the gate, a scowl on his face as he cast his gaze across those gathered. He'd come as soon as he'd heard the news. Fifteen minutes late, with coffee he’d gotten to go.

To the point as ever, Rolanda arrived and merely looked around at the dreary scene before her, before taking matters into her own hands. "You there! Guard! We're looking for Aiswyda, is she inside?"

The guard’s eyes were glued to his paperback. He wet a finger and turned the page. “What d’ya want.”

Rolanda walked up to the guard. "Our comrade has written us from jail, claiming that she was wrongly imprisoned. We are here to help set matters straight, and to help our friend, who is surely innocent."

Khora joined the Au Ra in her take-charge approach.  "Roegadyn. Named Aiswyda?  Probably wearing a straw hat."

Haila glanced up from the tome she had been reading as others began to gather, all thankfully familiar faces. As she tucked on the tome by her side, the viera took a deep breath before speaking up. "I'd ask despite having tried to look into matters myself, but no one has an inkling of what happened with Miss Wyda right?"

Crific glanced at Haila, shaking his head. "Just her letter." He shifted his gaze to the Rolanda and the guard.

"I'm unsure of what's going on." G’lewra replied, humming in thought for a moment. After hearing what happened she had decided to join the investigation. Right before leaving, however, she had a very long conversation with her daughter about how her loud mouth would've had her end up in jail as well. She just phrased it....in a more motherly way.

"Hard ta b'lieve she'd be considahd a pirate, she's rathah pleasant companeh." Nazyl added. But then again, so were Claws for a time, "Might we...know why she's bein' accused of bein' a pirate?"

The guard now looked up from his paperback, the cover of which featured a petite au ra, swooning in the arms of a very beefy roegadyn. 

“Tch...persistent buggers. Aye, I know that straw hat wearing pirate.” he snorted at Rolanda and Khora. “Set matters straight? Oh, just let me get out me keys and unlock her cell, an’ we can all part ways smellin’ of biscuits and gravy!” The guard rolled his eyes.

Unimpressed, Khora arched a brow at the guard's sarcasm.  "And for what is she even being imprisoned?  A pirate you say?  And how did you come to such a conclusion?"

Haila frowned at the remark, her research into Aiswyda's case had turned up no results at all... But if such an accusation was true, well, she was both hesitant and reluctant to connect the dots in that case.

For the moment, Crific remained silent. There were enough voices, though his scowl was growing deeper by the minute.

After some grumbling, the guard hobbled to the bulletin board, and directed the party there. “Just comb through those papers. She’s part of a pirate crew. Red Argos. Bleedin’ ‘ells, it’s me break. Can’t get a wink of rest ‘round here.”

Crific brushed forward to peer at the bulletin board, though he left enough room for others to search as well. "Red Argos," he repeated, muttering to himself. He found several papers detailing a mysterious cult of zombie worshippers. Interesting, but useful? Nope.

"Red Argos huh..." Nazyl added. There were so many names it was difficult to keep track of every crew in the sea. Given the height of the board, he'd need someone else to read it, and he wasn't about to start being antagonistic now.

Rolanda walked over to join Crific at the board. "What have we here..."

She found several advertisements for the Arcanist’s guild in Limsa Lominsa. A picture of what appears to be a carbuncle being ridden into battle! Neat!

There were so many papers. Bounties. Advertisements. It may take some digging to find what they were looking for.

Crific exhaled, and started digging deeper. Could be the charges against Aiswyda and her purported crew were old. "When were these bounties placed?" He directed the question to the guard, though he didn't look up.

The guard waved a hand in the air. “Eugh. Maybe like, two weeks old.”

Crific glanced at the dates on the current flyers, and started flipping through, looking for dates a sennight earlier and found something. Labeled ‘page 2’, a paper that detailed Red Argos’s exploits. They’re known to attack ships that are part of the Eorzean alliance. Not just that, but...generally speaking, there were no survivors. The ships might be seen again later, but the goods? The sailors? Gone. Outside of that, the pirates were known to even target local settlements for coin, supplies, and people. Kidnapping.

Crific tugs a flyer down, frowning as he noted the page number. "Have the second page of something, here. Concerns the crew, at least. Nasty business." He runs his finger down a list, "Attacking alliance ships, leaving no survivors--or at least none aboard. Local settlements, too--pillaging, kidnapping.""

Khora found something that looked promising. A bundle of marks, all detailing the last known actions of a group of pirates known as ‘Red Argos.’ Page 1 described the physical appearance of the gang. All Sea Wolves, donning a red ribbon earring. Approach with caution! They are well equipped, and attack on sight. Unfortunately, the other pages are scattered elsewhere.

The Seeker rubbed his chin, squinting as he read over leaflets and pamphlets sprawled across the bulletin board.  "Hrrmm..."  Thoughtful hum echoing in the back of his throat as his eyes wandered across the page.  "I mean Sea Wolf yes but...  Does she even wear a red ribbon earring?  Gods I cannot recall..."

Unable to peruse the board, Nazyl approached the cells instead, glancing through them. The system of 'law' they used certainly could use improvement, but it was better than nothing. Had he been born anywhere else, he likely wouldn't have considered living in Vylbrand. He glanced back at the guard, still hesitant to say anything.

Rolanda, meanwhile, found page 3 of Red Argos’s report. It was a list of scattered observations. Unlike bandits, or other pirate groups, these pirates seemingly strike at random. No discernable pattern in their attacks, or the locations at which they strike. There’s even been alleged sightings of the pirates in Coerthas! Rumors, or facts? It’s unclear. She shared the information with the rest of the group. 

"Perhaps we could look for clues in Coerthas, if we find nothing else useful here. There are certainly more pages to this report that may hold some useful information.” she suggested. 

"Pirates...in Coerthas?" Nazyl raised a brow, "Uh, that's...an odd place fer seafarin' bandits ta be. Water's all but frozen there."

With so many flyers torn from the bounty board, the last page of the Red Argos reports could be seen by all. It contained sketches of known members. One perfectly resembles Aiswyda, albeit in a different outfit. There were notes under each sketch which indicate that each was likely to be a leader of some sort. However, the captain of the crew had yet to be determined.

Crific did a doubletake as he noticed the board. 

"Now that is troublesome..." Haila muttered upon seeing the sketch resembling Aiswyda. 

G'lewra pressed a finger to her chin for a moment as she thought it over. "I believe since our company is under the orders of the Adder's I do believe we would need Captain Alarone to come collect our fellow member." Her ears flicked. "But if these pirates are stationed in Coerthas then we'll also have to worry about the Ishgardian Knights collecting her as well."

"The uncertainty of who may have to collect her could give us time to look deeper into this case. Because as it stands right now, a striking resemblance won't help us getting her out soon." Haila said. 

Crific frowned slightly. "We'd need to provide the actual pirate to prove Wyda's innocence, if I had to make a wager."

The guard snorted and wiped his nose roughly with the corner of his arm. “Hah! Let ‘er out. Yer jokin’, right?” He gave them all a smug smile. “Maelstrom’s got plans to hold on to this one, ‘til the rest of the bloody crew can be brought in.”

Nazyl nodded to Crific, then turned to the guard, "....There's othahs that ain't been caught yet?"

The guard nodded. “No dice. Damned pirates be actin’ weird, poppin’ up in all sorts of places. Unpredictable. An’ we can’t be spreadin’ our forces so thin. So this lass here be our best clue to findin’ the rest.” He shook his head slowly. “Now if we could just get a clue out of that bleedin’ straw hat. Some idea of where the scoundrels might strike next.”

Khora arched a brow.  Silver eyes settled on the guard for but a moment before shifting to the rest of his party.  "Did someone say..."  Excitement grew in his expression, a smile running wide as suddenly Khora drew his sword and raised it to the air.  "PIRATE HUNT?!"

Haila startled briefly, unsure of whether it had been Khora’s excitement at such a thing, or the fact that the miqo'te had just waved a sword in front of the guards like that. She sighed rather audibly, shaking her head in disapproval as she kept silent, praying that the small outburst didn't bring trouble in and of itself.

G'lewra reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small bag that was filled with biscuits. "Here darling, have a biscuit." She said while holding the bag out to Khora, hopefully to calm Khora down and to make sure the guard doesn't think the group was filled with idiots.

Khora's excitement settled as his attention was drawn to G'lewra, with ears falling flat over his head.  "What is...?"  The Seeker peered at Lewra as he sheathed his blade back into its scabbard.

She then strolled forward to speak with the guard, a calm smile curving her features to show she wasn't about to rip him a new one. "My dear, if possible, our company is under the order of the Twin Adders and we have a captain that keeps an eye on us. If it would be alright with your captain might it be alright for us to take this prisoner to help us hunt the rest down? That way your forces aren't spread so thin and our company can have one less worry when we do our trade."

Nazyl bit his lip. He felt it wouldn't be so easy, the Grand Companies rarely work together so well...the Frontlines were invented for settling disputes after all.

The guard pursed his lips. “Huh. Twin Adders?” He looked across the area, suspicious but interested. “I’ll bring this up, but no promises. The ‘igher ups are interested in ‘er, and me hands are tied. I don’t have that authority.”

“If you want though, I could let ye in to visit ‘er. Maybe you can get something outta ‘er now.” The guard shut his book. “It’s almost time for me shift to begin anyway.”

Crific glanced at G’lewra. She was far too optimistic towards the Grand Company's leniency--but at least they could visit. "We'd be much obliged." He nodded at the guard’s offer.

The Seeker’s eyes lit up as the guard offered them to let the group speak to Aiswyda. "If you don't mind, dear, we would appreciate it." Looking over to Khora, the head medic simply smiled at him. "Snacks, I've learned to keep some on me to keep the members going in tough situations."

"Oh I am far from a 'tough situation' there friend."  Khora’s ears rose once more to flicker over his head while a wide grin spread across his lips.  "I'm actually getting excited about this pirate hu-  Wait..."  The Seeker froze up, tension clear in his body as his eyes went wide.  "C-Coerthas...?"

Bloody. Frozen. Coerthas. 

The guard nodded, and got up with a big stretch. “Alright. Stay close now.”

He led the party down a narrow hallway, cells to the left and right of them. It was a cramped walkway that required everyone to walk in single file, and shoulders brush as oncoming jailers went on their patrols.

Some jail cells were occupied, others were not. Thick, iron bars separate the criminals and the law. A few rowdy individuals rushed up to the gates of their cells and reached out towards the party, calloused hands grasping for freedom. Such behavior was quickly halted by the jailers, but that didn’t stop the imprisoned from clapping back with insults and jibes.

After several turns and going through locked doors, the guard stopped. To the left, an empty cell. To the right, Aiswyda sat on a stool, facing away. She was looking out the small, reinforced window that lets in a thin trickle of light.

The guard rapped on the iron bars, and the Sea Wolf quickly turned. On seeing familiar faces, she lit up, and stumbled up to meet them. Her long hair, though matted, was still tied in a messy braid. She donned a cloth bandage around her eye. Bruises and small cuts could be spotted on her body.

"Evenin' sunshine. Prison rags hardleh suit ye." Nazyl greeted. 

Crific seemed unmoved by the state of the prison, bringing up the rear of the party as the guard led them through the winding passages. His scowl grew at the state of her, but he didn’t seem surprised.

“Nazyl! Everyone!” Aiswyda looked excited and relieved. “Aha, yeah. Jail isn’t exactly the place for expressing one’s creativity in fashion though.....”

"Oh dear.....who did this to you, sweetpea?" G'lewra had to stop herself from moving in to try and heal Aiswyda but with the current situation at hand she had to stay put.

“The...guards.” Aiswyda briefly glanced at the Yellow Jacket that was currently monitoring the prisoner visit. “I think.”

"Yer good fer toughin' it out though. We're here ta try n' set things right." Nazyl replied. 

Aiswyda was nearly in tears. She couldn’t seem to express herself at the moment, and so she simply gave Nazyl a hearty thumbs up. When she finally collected herself, she managed to reply, “It’s been rough. Not exactly thriving, but living.”

Crific glanced at G'lewra, biting back on a sigh as Aiswyda answered. He'd thought as much. "Expect it to get worse afore it gets better. There's more pirates in the crew they've mistaken you for a part of, and they want them, one way or another." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but there's a gruff displeasure in his voice.

“Ah yeah. Red Argos, I think?” Aiswyda visibly deflated at Crific’s statement. “ I swear, I don’t know the first thing about them. You all know I’ve spent most of my time with Heartwood, in the Shroud.”

"Oh Wyda.." Haila’s voice trailed off with worry over the roegadyn's state. "Do you think you can hold on just a little longer while we figure this whole mess out?"

Aiswyda was grateful for Haila’s concern. “I think so. But I won’t lie, it’s pretty...wild. In here.”

"Good news is, there seems ta be othahs out there that ain't been caught yet. I reckon if we can find 'em first, we could squeeze info outta 'em regardin' this othah woman who jsut so happens ta look like ye." Nazyl paused for a moment, blinking, "Ye don't happen ta have siblin's, do ye?"

“I don’t.....think so?” Aiswyda crossed her arms, a little sheepish. "You think I have an evil twin?"

"Not rulin' out the possibiliteh. The similaritehs between ye two -are- rathah uncanneh."

Crific raked a hand back through his hair, his stoic expression fracturing slightly as he turned away, silent for a long moment, though he had ears on the conversation.

“That’s what she said too......” Aiswyda scratched her head in thought. “Oh! I mean. There’s been someone who’s been visiting my jail cell often. She’s always asking me stuff like that.”

Nazyl canted his head some, "Someone...? Who? From that response, it sounds like she's seekin' the same as us..."

"Maelstrom officer, if I had to guess." Crific muttered.

"More than likely given how serious the Argos’s crimes are." Haila agreed. 

“Yeah, the Maelstrom and I have had a lot of. Talks.” She pauses. “But also, someone else. A lalafell who goes by the name of Momori. I think she works for someone who had something stolen by the pirates.”

Crific glanced back at Aiswyda. "Do you know where this Momori can be found? She may have more information on the pirates that we'd be able to put to use."

"Aye, she could make it easiah fer us ta hunt down the rest in hidin'." Nazyl added. 

“I don’t know where she is, for obvious reasons.” She motioned to the cell around her. “But given that she’s visited me several times, maybe she’s still in town? She’s a red haired lalafell, about yay tall.” Aiswyda crouched down and placed her hand on the ground, then raised it up somewhat. “Like Nazyl.”

Crific grunted at the description. It wasn't much, but it was probably enough, if she was staying in Aleport.

"Plains, or Dunes? Small detail, but it helps." Nazyl asked. 

“She’s visited about four times. Mostly to ask me about the pirates, or to update me on her own investigation status. She doesn’t...” Aiswyda abruptly stopped. Pursed her lips together, words failing her. “She doesn’t think it’s a coincidence, that I happen to look like one of the pirates. A hunch. I think it’s all baloney, but hey. Anything’s  possible I guess. She’s quite tan. Which, em, I don’t think is specific to either? OH. Her eyes are glassy. Dunesfolk! ....right?”

"That'd be Dunesfolk aye. Alright, that'll make it easeh ta track her." the lalafell nodded. 

The Yellow Jacket piped up. “Dunesfolk? Oh, aye. Right. That ones got ‘eavin pockets...Ye might find ‘er in the alehouses. Seen ‘er there many times.” He shook his head. “Haven’t ever seen a lalafell down so much drink. God forbid.”

"This lalafell sounds like a good lead. Should we head to the tavern and see what we can see?" Rolanda asked, looking to the rest of the group.

"Sounds like the best option for now while we try to figure everything out." Haila agreed. 

Aiswyda nodded. “Good luck. And thanks for visiting!” She tried to sound her usual, bright self, but it sounded a little hollow. The guard, sensing the party’s intent, pushed the group along towards the exit, as Aiswyda watched for as long as she could.

Crific lingered behind, turning to Aiswyda with an unreadable expression; he held up a finger to the guard ushering the others out and motioned that he'd follow in a moment. "Eat whatever they give you, regardless of what it is, you'll need your strength to heal. Keep all your wounds clear as you can, and out of the damp." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "We'll figure this out before long." He turned, then, without giving her a chance to reply, and hurried after the others.

The Aleport tavern was bustling with activity! Seamen, merchants, adventurers, farmers...they all came here to share a table. To play a hand of cards while guzzling ale. As such, it was incredibly loud inside the tavern. Orders were hollered above the noise, above the brawl that had broken out in the corner. All and all, a good time.

Nazyl wrinkled his nose at the smell of a Limsan bar--generally unpleasant, and the sheer amount of alcohol didn't help. He grimaced, scanning the area--a lively lot, but it wasn't hard to spot one out of place.

At one of the tables, a red haired lalafell was playing a game of poker with several others. Her hair was neatly tucked in a bun, and her attire reflected someone of a scholarly nature. She was out of place, surrounded by salty sailors and the like.

They were betting at the moment. The lalafell wordlessly slid in a hefty amount of gil, and as they went around, a few others dropped out. Three, including the lalafell, stay in. Cards were exposed. Sweat beads on a sailor’s forehead. The lalafell is unblinking. It was almost like she was wearing a mask.

The final turn came around, and it was down to two. But the pressure gets to the final player, who folds. The lalafell takes the pot without ever revealing her hand.

Rolanda motioned to the lalafell playing cards. "This looks like the one, eh?"

Nazyl wasted no time and approached the table.

The lalafell already had her eyes on Nazyl. She hopped off her stool and simply stared at the other lalafell. “Hello. What do you want.”

Khora leaned close to G'lewra, nearly hovering over her shoulder as he whispered.  "Think we'll get to see a Lalafell fight?"

"I would hope not, my dear, as I'm the only medic currently here and I'm not too sure these two would give up too easily." She whispered back.

Nazyl had to do a double take. He swore for a moment he was looking at a former employer, but smaller. The surprise was quickly wiped from his face, "Nazyl. I hear ye've been down ta the jails questionin' a good friend of ourse recentleh."

Crific hovered in the back, his shoulders sagging slightly. He seemed more distracted after leaving the gaol, somehow, though his expression was as hard to read as ever.

Momori stared at the group, expressionless. Stoic. There’s a long pause, and then finally. “Nazyl. You all must be from her company. She told me about all of you.” She raised a brow. “Are you here to speak business?"

Khora's hands rose to rest atop his head.  "As much I would like to say leisure...  Business it is."

"Straight ta the point, aye. We also think she was wrongfulleh imprisoned, n' will do what we need ta get her out, lawfulleh mind." Nazyl nodded, "I got the idea of huntin' down the crew o' Red Argos n' seein' if we could squeeze info outta them."

Momori tilted her head. “Our goal is one and the same then. To bring those pirates to justice.”

Nazyl nodded again, "So it is. Thought ye might be able ta help in that regard, ye seem ta have been on this case longah."

“Oh and I’m Momori. Nice to meet you all, the weather is great, have you tried the ale.” she said dryly. “Now that we have that out of the way, yes. I have been to visit your friend. While I don’t think she did it, I also don’t think she’s giving us the full picture. Nothing is quite as it seems.”

Momori snapped open a small, worn journal. “Pirates spotted in Coerthas. Targeting very, very particular ships. An interest in trafficking bodies. I dare say, we may have something fun on our hands.”

Crific grunted quietly at mention of 'fun'. Their definitions probably varied.

"What...ships? There's no large bodehs of water that way lest ye head towards Dravania. Unless..." Nazyl tapped his chin, "Airships?"

Momori drew her lips back slightly. “Before I can tell you more, I’d like to propose a deal. You want your friend freed and I want my client’s treasure recovered. We’re both chasing after the same pirates. Shall we work together?”

"That was the idea. What deal were ye proposin'?"

“I have some ideas of where Red Argos might strike next. What their goal is. But I’m just one lalafell.” She looked to the company. “That’s where you guys come in. To wherever the pirates strike, you can go and capture them. Collect their bounties if you care to. I’m only interested in the stolen artifact.”

Khora's ears flattened over his head with his posture slouching greatly.  "Gods...  Coerthas of all places?  I thought pirates preferred warm and sunny weather, not the freezing cold and snow..."

“I can also tell you a bit about what to expect. These aren’t your ordinary pirates, that’s for sure. Most would pawn off stolen goods as soon as a buyer is found, but these? They’re hanging on to what they get. It’s dangerous.”

Nazyl narrowed his eyes, "They sound like the type ta carreh tainted shite thinkin' they can control it. As if I alreadeh didn't have enough on me plate with Focalor..." He sighed, "Should mention I make me livin' as a Void huntah, so this ain't news ta me. I'm still baffled as ta why they set up shop in Coerthas of all places, but whatevah. It'll be their folleh when they're stripped n' freezin'."

“Of course they can’t control it. They’re pirates, not scholars.” She sighed, taking off her glasses and polishing each lens with her sleeve. “Anyway, we have a deal. Still compiling my research, but I’ll send word as soon as I’m certain where the pirates will strike next. Let’s stay in touch.”

The lalafell seemed very pleased by this outcome, and she gave each member a hearty handshake and a small bow. “I look forward to working with you all.”

"Mm. Ye'll probableh need ta contact one o' them, not me. I've got...business out in the sea." Nazyl replied. 

Crific shook hands reluctantly, looking not at all thrilled by the prospect of mysterious pirates and worse -- artifacts -- but he'd do his part.

It seemed there was nothing else to do except wait for Momori’s investigation to bear fruit.

[blooms-of-ice]

RP Log: Some time in the past, Wyda welcomes Sven to the company! 

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn has spent the afternoon tending to the front yard. ‘Gardening’ (if you could call basically drowning plants in water that) and keeping everything tidy! With a broom gripped between her hands, she sweeps the stepping stones leading to the company building with a hum and a tune.

Sven Anovsch walks up slowly, seeing the person 'tending' to the lawn and stepping stones.  This unsocialized Hrothgar walks just enough to not step on the stones before clearing his throat and speaking. "Ahem, you are employed here?"

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn stops sweeping and gives Sven a beaming smile. “Hello! Oh, yes! I’m employed.” A beat. She clears her throat. “I’m one of the officers of Heartwood. What can I help you with?”

Sven Anovsch blinks and forces his head back at the sudden almost excited and quick response. "A-ah. Well good then." He takes a few steps forward. "I have been loitering around that tavern? Hall?" He shrugs before continuing. "In Ul'dah.  I saw a few fliers of other companies but figured I'd see if this was a proper one for me...." He realizes he is just talking to much. "I'm just looking for a position is all, what can I do to start that?"

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn steps to the left for a moment to lean her broom against the wall, and returns with her hands empty. She then presents an open hand to Sven and waits for him to shake it. “A recruit then? Welcome! All you have to do is shake on it.”

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “...Okay, there’s a bit more to it. I can walk you through what you can expect to do here, if you decide to join. Ahem. But we can get into the nitty gritty stuff inside over a cup of tea.”

Sven Anovsch cants his head looking down to her hand. "That...Is it? Ah, what of questions o- I see, I see.  I will agree to that so far." He extends his hand to take hers for a shake.  If it was just a normal shake, and no funny business, it would just be a normal but firm shake.  Expected of an average Hrothgar.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Let’s head on in. If we stay out too long, then we might get a nasty sunburn.” She eyes Sven curiously, and is about to ask him if Hrothgar can even get a sunburn...but she holds her tongue. Wouldn’t be polite. Wyda steps away and pushes the building doors open, ushering the recruit inside.

Sven Anovsch just perks a brow, but nodding as he follows her lead. "Thanks." He says as he is ushered through the door.

Sven Anovsch takes a decent look around. "Interesting floor." He just stares at the ground now.  Obviously completely confused on it and how it is even maintained here inside, though he focuses his attention back on Ais. "A nice building though.  A lot better than some dingy building that some companies have." He gives a quick chuckle.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn grins, suddenly feeling a little bashful even though it’s the house being complimented. “We take good care of the place...and we take good care of the members. One sec.”

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn grabs a folder of documents from the front table and then dashes over to the cafe. Bam, the papers go on the table. Bam, she brings over a pot of tea and a couple of sweets from the bakery. And then bam, she sits herself down and gestures for Sven to join her.

Sven Anovsch gives a nod. "It seems your company does take good care of the place." He follows along and sits down across from Ais. "Do you treat all recruits like this? Or is it a ploy to persuade anyone who wishes to join?" He smirks lightly.  Is this a joke? Who knows, but now his eyes lay on the papers.  A sigh and nothing further said as he stares.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “All genuine! Nothing fake about this.” She grins, and then pulls out a pencil with the intent of filling out the form in front of her. She stops the moment she tries to fill the first square. “Shoot! What’s your name...what’s my name! I’m Wyda. Ahhh, I was so excited that I forgot the first step in talking with people.”

Sven Anovsch widens his eyes as he forgot himself as well. That's it...He blew it...Another awkward social interaction. He shakes his head before finally speaking. "Sven, it's Sven.  Apologies." He sighs, shaking his head.  He is better suited for working rather than talking most definitely.  Stupid hermit Hroth.

(Sven Anovsch) Love it xD ) (Sven Anovsch) Sven just literally hasn't talked to anyone since he was like 14 or 15 and he is in his early 30's now haha ) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) he's pretty good at talkin for someone who hasn't talked for 15 years! O_O )) (Sven Anovsch) Lmfao well he's been here for like a few months aaand I don't feel like typing like that xD ) (Sven Anovsch) May seem awkward, but he's smartish.  He tried suuuper hard to learn the language.  We will go with that lmfao )

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Sven! That’s a nice name. S-v-e-n...Sven.” Wyda fills in the first box. “So, we’re a group of adventurers from all sorts of places. Limsa Lominsa, Ul’dah, Coerthas...you name it. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Sven Anovsch is obviously not too excited to talk about himself, though he knows he must. "Thank you. Ah, well I am a warrior, of course.  I have only recently came down from way up beyond Ishgard.  You can imagine why I am sure.  Though, I am not opposed to groundskeeping, brewing or stilling.  But I still flourish with fighting, as it seems typical around here to be anyways." He wonders if that suffices.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn nods as she listens and jots down notes based on what he’s telling her. Ishgard. Warrior. Groundskeeping. Brewing. “Quite a journey if you made it on foot. Now, we’ve got a gardener already, but I’m sure she won’t mind a helping hand now and again. But brewing...now that’s interesting! Erm..” Her eyes light up as her inner alcoholic tries to make itself known. Wyda scrunches her face for a second and forces it back down.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn:  “Ahem. ‘Fighting’ is generally how we pay the bills. Guard jobs, hunts, you name it. It’s dangerous, but everyone here is someone you can trust your life with. And if you -do- get hurt, we’ve got a clinic in house.”

Sven Anovsch actually smiles and nods. "Yes, was mainly on foot until I got a bit of coin to be able to afford going down to Ul'dah.  A fellow Hrothgar told me it is friendliest to travelers there? Or at least to him.  But...I've been stilling a few things for many summers, I've tried a bit at brewing.  Not as tasty as like stilling mead or just the stuff that makes you pass out, but good regardless." He chuckles for a moment before continuing. "Seems with at least fighting, I fit in, yes?"

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn leans back in her chair. Ah, Ul’dah...the city of opportunity, but also the city of shady deals. “Before I found Heartwood, I went to Ul’dah too. Nice enough place, but I’m glad to be where I am now. And I think you’ll fit right in - you’ll find we’re all weird in our own way.”

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Do you think you could show me how to brew alcohol sometime? I’m a bit of a...” Her mind searches for the right word. Drunk? Accurate, but no. “I’m a connessier.”

Sven Anovsch smiles warmly at that. "It's a bit barren down in Ul'dah.  Opposite of what I am used to, but I suppose it does have good food." He chuckles before continuing. "I'd be happy to show you though.  It takes a while, but if you do it right, it comes out quite good.  By my standards at least."

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn fills a cup of tea for herself and Sven. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it! When you make something with love, then it will always taste good.” Wyda says this with absolute seriousness, completely unaware of how cheesy she’s being. God, the cheese.

Sven Anovsch blinks at that.  Feta cheese. "Yes...Or just the good quality hops." He chuckles looking down to the cup of tea she poured for him.  He reaches to pick it up, giving it a sniff before continuing. "How many members are working here?"

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn similarly picks up her teacup and wraps her hands around it, appreciating its warmth. “Hm...60 to 70. But some folk are the type to return home in a blue moon while they’re doing their own thing. Certainly, there are regulars like myself. And if you hang around the bar, you’re sure to see the same faces quite a bit.”

Sven Anovsch gives a nod. "Then perhaps I will linger around here more often.  I'm assuming this company also partakes in contracts that require bigger groups?" He sips at his tea which leads to an odd reaction.  Not a displeased one, but one of just curiosity as he sniffs the tea again? why? He takes another sip and just holds it under his face a bit as he waits for her response.

(Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) lmao what is this strange hot leaf juice xD )) (Sven Anovsch) Lmfao, he's used to his shitty teas he learned to make which are essentially just random shit mixed together.  Comes to Eorzea and holy shit there's good tasting tea? Not just 'medicinal' kinds? haha )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) now he's in the lap of luxury, comparatively ))

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Yeah, maybe...once or twice a month. Depends on whether Eorzeas on fire or not.” She shrugs her shoulders with a lighthearted chuckle. “We’ve fought all sorts of things. Amal’jaa, robot spiders, an aether sucking auracite...It can get pretty dangerous, not gonna lie. I much prefer the time between jobs where we can just kick back and relax.”

Sven Anovsch cants his head. "Robot spiders...?" That's a new one to him.  Robot?  He shrugs. "Complacency can kill someone, so don't let yourself get too comfortable and relaxed." There it is, the boneheaded Hrothgar attitude. "So, you have me convinced.  I'd like to join.  What all must I do?"

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn sighs. How she wishes she could relax forever...but she can’t. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she was slacking around while others risked life and limb for the good of Eorzea. “Not much. Just sign here, and here.” Wyda points to two spots on the forms. They’re the usual stuff found on free company applications. The company isn’t responsible for any untimely deaths, a promise to represent the company in a positive light, etc...

Sven Anovsch can't read...What does he do...He looks over where she pointed but somehow already lost his place on where he is supposed to sign...Sign..? What does that exactly mean. "Uhm..." Is all he says.

(Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) oh noo )) (Sven Anovsch) Lmao BUT HOW DID HE FIND THIS PLACE?!?! wonder of the universe lmfao lots of awkward interactions in asking for help lmfao )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) the universe is a magical and mysterious place............... )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) wyda isn't much sharper tbh ))

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn looks up at Sven, then down at the paper, and then back up. You can practically hear the gears move in her head. “Oh! Umm, just. Just do this. Please hold still.” Wyda tries to blacken the Sven’s fingertip with the end of her pen, in an attempt to use his fingerprints in lieu of a signature.

Sven Anovsch just lets her do what she is doing. "I think I understand..." He then takes his freshly inked fingertip and just makes a smudge with it.  Not a fingerprint...A smudge... He looks up smiling. "There! It all works, yes? I must admit, I am quite excited to see where this company can take me.  It smells positive here, which is a good thing before going out and fighting or something like that, yes?"

(Sven Anovsch) I try to fill in logic holes as I go lmfao. )) (Aiswyda Nuthalwyn) fdsf this is cracking me up ))

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn picks up the paper and holds it against the light. The smudge is immediately noticeable, like a bowling ball in a field of snow. “Hm.”

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “Perfect!” She practically glows with positive energy.

Aiswyda Nuthalwyn: “And I’m excited to welcome you to Heartwood! So I’ll say it again...welcome, friend!”

Sven Anovsch perks up even more. "Great! I shall eventually bring all my brewing stuff over.  I'll even let you use it as you wish.  Best way to learn is just experiment." He chuckles. "But, I look forward to working with the people here." And a confident nod at the end there.

[furymint]

FFXIV Write: Prompt #11

wc: 602 | feat @endangered-liaison and a bit of @mostdangerouspotato

Wyda followed down the hall of the Bellworks office, toying with her ring and trying to remember just how long ago she’d seen so much orange juice on Sapphire Avenue. A jug swung aside her in a tarp bag of books she’d purchased from a ratty hyuran man--but where else does one find ratty books? In any case, her shopping trip could be called a success from the sight of the orange juice alone; either someone waived a tariff or avoided one, and that meant Maelvaan’s gate had at least one new venal officer.

She was not the only person throwing coin around today, apparently. Set against the wall opposite Elliot’s door, an array of four identical candles stood like soldiers. Typical of him to get his whims delivered to his doorstep. But they should have bee stuffed next to his mailbox. And was that smell smoke?

Wyda knocked on his door. “Candle! There’s... candles out here for you.”

From within, the unmistakable sound of Elliot scrambling to his feet rung out, followed by his voice: “Wyda! Do join us, they’re ganging up on me!” He swung the door open and pulled her in by the arm, never considering that she may have more important--or at least more pressing--work to attend to. Still, his socks slid against the floor. Wyda went no where from his feeble pulling.

On the floor beyond Elliot’s bobbing head, Nolanel focused before a tower of dominoes stacked like a jenga pile. Blocks that had been removed from the tower circled it, upright, tempting disaster with their inevitable fall. Hidden behind his bulk sat Sasamu, who waved in Wyda’s direction. She said nothing--she had a biscotti in her mouth.

Recognizing that he wasn’t going to be able to drag Wyda inside, Elliot hung on her arm and swung sideways to see what was in her other hand. A bag. Cheap tarp. Beige. Fine, he had to ask. “What did you pick up today?”

“Orange juice and books.” Wyda shook him off and held the bag up as she spoke.

Nolanel looked this time, if only to confirm what she said. Never meeting her eyes, he nodded in her direction and turned back to his study of the tower.

Samu babbled around her cookie something that no one but Nolanel understood; he laughed, and that seemed to be proof enough of his alliance with her that Elliot pointed and whined, “I told you!”

Unperturbed, Nolanel reached behind him to the piano stool. Columns of biscotti sat atop the platter he grabbed and held out. To Wyda, he said, “At least take one, if you like ‘em.”

And now he was on Elliot’s side.

Wyda shrugged and set her bag under the coat hanger. “Are we just gonna forget about the candles smoking outside?”

Nolanel put the tray back. He pushed the first domino of the ring down. One by one, each brick toppled into the next, flying around the corner and slamming into the precarious tower. Sasamu squealed in delight, Elliot in horror, as Nolanel forfeited his collected pieces to the new heap. “We’ll start anew,” he said.

Elliot sighed and withheld Nolanel’s confidence until he could finally betray it--kneeling with Wyda to scrutinize her orange juice jug and puff while trying to open it, promising that he’ll buy her another tomorrow morning, he’ll buy her breakfast if she likes, Vicky too, but don’t kick the candles outside; they’re his; they’re for prayers, but Nolanel can’t stand the smoke so they snuff them outside the room; is Lominsan orange juice more sweet or sour than others, do you know?